Sue Ellen Ewing for Governor: All Bite, No Bark
by Wicked Pen
Summary: This is my response to being disappointed with the marginalizing of Sue Ellen and her governor storyline in new Dallas, Season 1. I liked the idea and tried to develop it. My story starts after Harris Ryland leaves Sue Ellen's campaign office, just having tempted her with a glass of wine and asked to launder money through her PAC. Thanks for reading, feedback welcome.
1. The Virus Chapter 1

Sue Ellen glares at the back of Harris Ryland's head as he swaggers out of her office. When the door closes behind him she realizes she is holding her breath. She closes her eyes for a minute and exhales. She shivers slightly as she tries to calm herself and as she reaches for a pen to document what he said, her trembling hand knocks the wine glass over that Ryland poured. With a crack of glass, red wine spills across the conference room table. Her assistant Mark pokes his head in cautiously behind the office door, his eyes widening at the upturned glass of wine.

"Mark, help me clean this up please."

Mark looks from Sue Ellen to the wine and back again.

"No. Mark. Really, this isn't me breaking my sobriety with a cheap glass of wine in the middle of a campaign meeting." Sue Ellen laughs nervously.

"That man just yanks my chain so much I lost my bearings and knocked the glass over reaching for the phone to call security. I don't want him allowed in here again, do you understand?"

"Uh, yes, of course Mrs. Ewing. I, um, I'm sorry about that and I'll let Susana know. Let me get some towels."

As he leaves, Sue Ellen looks at the red liquid slowly creeping toward her. How much she used to need it, crave it. How it used to numb her pain so long ago. Standing there, staring the wine down 20 years after she took her last sip, it seems surreal that she chose to damage her body with alcohol for just a few hours of relief. _My how life can turn on a dime._ How ironic her circumstances had become.

Mark returns, towels in hand and Sue Ellen takes some from him. They wipe the spill in silence and Mark carefully pushes the broken glass into a trashcan. He glances at Sue Ellen. She smiles but her eyes look worried and her brow is furled. He doesn't know what to say. He makes another pass with a towel at the freshly cleaned table top.

"Uh, Mrs. Ewing? Are you, are you alright? I mean, um, is there anything else I can do right now? You know, for your schedule or – "

"Mark, I'm fine. Thank you."

Sue Ellen balls up the red-stained paper towels and throws them into the trashcan with a little too much force. She pats his shoulder.

"You know what you can do for me? Get on your computer and find everything you can related to Harris Ryland. Put those research skills of yours to work, Mark. Give Aubrey my calendar for the rest of the week and concentrate on this. It's important to the campaign. It's important to me."

"Of course. Sure thing Mrs. Ewing," Mark replies. He nods his head, wets his lips and hesitates before speaking again. "Mrs. Ewing? Is Mr. Ryland…, is he threatening you in any way? I mean, is there cause for concern…..for your safety?"

Sue Ellen looks up from her papers, she puts her pen down and crosses her arms more around herself than in front. She is touched by Mark's genuine concern and she steels herself against the sharp realization that this young man, this professional acquaintance, shows more concern for her than her own son has in years.

"Oh, Mark that's very kind of you to ask. Very kind. But let me tell you something about Harris Ryland. He's a bully, plain and simple. My office is not his playground and I won't be pushed around. Harris is something like the boogie man," she says, "he'll give you a fright until you stand up and face him. And lucky for me, I don't scare easily."

Sue Ellen gets up, stands before the full-length windows and gazes at the city in the glow of the setting Texas sun. Looking at the skyline, she says, "You know Mark, I have regrets just like everyone else. I've done things I'm not proud of. But I can say this. I'm a mother and that's given me the chance to truly realize what it's like to care for someone more than myself or anyone else. I would do anything for my son to help him, protect him. And in some ways I feel the same about the Texas people; I want to help them succeed and protect them from threats to their happiness and safety. So, _my_ intentions are good. Let's just see how Mr. Ryland measures up."

Sue Ellen turns and faces Mark, smiling confidently. "Now that I have the means to really change things, to make life better for Texans struggling with things I take for granted, Harris Ryland is not going to run me off the field. I mean it. I want this governorship so I'll take all comers. This may be an ugly battle, but I'll go down fighting if I have to. And Mark? I've learned from the best, trust me. I'm a very, very good fighter."

"Yes ma'am. No, I don't doubt that you are, Mrs. Ewing. Thank you ma'am. And uh, I won't let you down with that research, you'll see," Mark says as he wipes his moist palms on his pants.

"I have every confidence in you, Mark," says Sue Ellen. "But it's late. You go on home now and come at it like gang busters in the morning, alright?"

Mark nods vigorously, "Okay Mrs. Ewing! You can count on it, you bet. Well, goodnight then."

As Sue Ellen sits back down, she can't help but smile at this young man for his loyalty and awkward encouragement. She likes Mark and she trusts him. He is a triple threat even if he doesn't know it. He is smart, honest and a technological genius. If anyone can find something useful on Ryland, he can.

Sue Ellen leans back in the chair and looks at all the campaign posters around the room. Bunches of smiling, confident Sue Ellens look back at her. She stands and walks down the short hall to her office. She hears Mark's door shut on his way out. The floor is quiet now and growing dark. As she enters her spacious office, the key to the City hanging on the wall catches her eye. She gazes at it for a moment. The key suddenly reminds her of a pendant Christopher gave Pam once, on a birthday, or was it Mother's Day? What she wouldn't give for a heart-shaped key charm from John Ross now, she thinks while sinking into her large red leather desk chair with a sigh.

She looks around her desk and settles on a framed photo of a young John Ross atop a pony, holding a bright blue bear and waving at the camera as his daddy holds the reins. She picks up the picture with a slightly shaky hand, traces his face with her finger and a tear falls on the glass.

The tear shocks Sue Ellen out of her melancholy. She quickly wipes it off the photo and brushes her cheek dry. She inhales deeply, exhales slowly and puts the photo back on her desk, angling it just so. She clears her throat, turns her attention to the computer screen and clicks her calendar application. Viewing the next day's appointments, a meeting labeled "Texas Health Care Reform Committee" is shown. Just then, an intricate glass clock softly chimes six on Sue Ellen's desk and her cell phone also sounds an alarm, muffled by her purse.

Sue Ellen gets up, walks to her purse hanging on a coat rack behind the door and removes a pill bottle. She takes bottled water from a small fridge beneath a bookshelf, opens the pill bottle and removes one. The prescription label on the bottle reads "Atripla". She bites her lip, puts the pill in her mouth, closes her eyes and swallows hard. She removes her make up bag and applies some coral lipstick, then dabs her misty eyes with a tissue, turns off the light and walks out of her office, shutting the door softly behind her.

A pad of paper sits on Sue Ellen's desk with the date, time and "Harris Ryland asks to pass money through PAC in exchange for ME" scribbled on it.

The parking garage is nearly empty by the time Sue Ellen drives her silver Porsche out of it, leaving the Dallas sky scraper housing her campaign office behind for the day. At the first red light, she pulls the visor down and glances in the vanity mirror. Her eyes have been so dry lately with this North Texas wind picking up. She looks at her eyes and stretches the ever-mocking crows feet with her finger.

A honk from behind makes her snap the mirror closed and advance under the green light. She sees a bearded man in a baseball cap shaking his head at her in the rear view mirror. She glares at him, switches lanes and punches the gas. She hopes the sound of her Porsche's engine revving reminds him of things he can't have.

This spitefulness catches her off guard. Why did the honking man bother her so much? Because after Harris Ryland's stunt at her office today, she's not about to be bossed by anyone else, even at a trivial traffic light. She laughs at the fight she has in her. It's going to serve her well as the next governor of Texas. And Ryland be damned if he thinks he can rattle her that easily. He doesn't have proof of what she asked the M.E. to do for John Ross. It's the Examiner's word against hers.

Just then, she comes up on the "Braddock" sign and turn off to the highway leading out to Southfork. She wonders what John Ross is doing. It's only just past 6:30 p.m. Maybe he would meet her for dinner? She clicks her Blue Tooth on and dials him. One, two, three rings.

"Hey. This is John Ross. Talk to the beep. I'll get back atcha."

"Hello John Ross, it's me. I'm just driving home and thinking about you. How about dinner tonight, or, well, soon? How about some nice, big steaks after all that lousy jail food? Or, I wouldn't mind driving out to Southfork just to see you… Alright. Well,… I love you darlin'. Bye bye."

Sue Ellen pulls up her long, curved driveway a short while later. Her thoughts still linger on John Ross at Southfork. She unlocks her large, black lacquered front door and quickly punches in her alarm code, John Ross's birthday followed by 121688. Two red Dobermans come bounding at her. "Hello babies. Hi Crockett, hi Bowie. Good boys. Did you miss mama? Did you?" she says as they lick her face.

She kicks off her magenta Blahniks and places her white Palladino crocodile bag on the foyer table. It falls over and the pearl grip of her .22 handgun slides out and onto the glass table.

"Well hello there," Sue Ellen says to the gun. "Are you just beggin' to be used?" She checks the safety and puts the gun back in the portable holster, snapping it closed.

She checks the mail drop box inside the foyer. It's brimming with pieces pushed through the external slot - multiple envelops with financial statements, some catalogs, junk mail and a campaign mailer from an opponent. Sue Ellen pushes it all aside to reach three light blue envelops at the bottom of the box. She scoops them out with delight and rushes off to the kitchen in her stocking feet, the dogs following.

Sue Ellen begins what has become her most enjoyable evening ritual. She brews a pot of jasmine green tea, puts her honey dispenser on the tray along with two small squares of cornbread and heads to the atrium. She sits on her yellow chaise lounge and gazes out the glass walls to this most golden part of the day, sky streaked with orange from the sunset. The dogs settle on their floor cushions and exhale. Sue Ellen does too.

She picks up the first blue envelop but suddenly remembers her call to John Ross. She gets up and goes to the foyer to retrieve her cell phone from her purse. On her way back to the atrium she turns on the sound system and Bonnie Raitt softly sings to her. She sits back down, placing both the cell and the land line phone beside her so as not to miss his call.

Now back to the envelop. She postpones the opening by turning it over and around in her hands, relishing what's inside – a new beginning, a realization of self worth, a rebirth even. She smiles at the familiar return address: Venus House, PO Box 7716, Dallas TX. Her greatest accomplishment to date, Venus House is. She thinks back to when she founded the Dallas Home for Wayward Boys and wonders what took her so long to establish an abused women's shelter, especially when she'd been one herself. JR used words as weapons, but they wounded all the same.

Each blue envelop meant another broken woman had healed; she'd finished the counseling program and was ready to make her own way, armed with the right tools to defend against her abuser should he find her again. Part of graduation was writing letters to those who helped them. Years ago the staff started the tradition of including Sue Ellen among the letter recipients as the shelter's founder. Women simply write to her as "Ma'am" and staff members address the envelops to S.E.E.

Many of the Venus women never learn that "Ma'am" is Sue Ellen Ewing and that's how she prefers it, not wanting the glory she feels belongs to the women themselves. But she's grown to need those letters. The women share what Venus House has given them and what their plans for the future are. Reading them is like medicine for Sue Ellen.

The first page of today's letter is an elaborate drawing of a woman chained to a thorny post by hands, neck and feet. The image is done in shades of gray and the woman is faceless. Underneath reads, "Dear Ma'am, this was me…" Sue Ellen turns the page over to find a drawing of a beautiful phoenix in vibrant reds and yellows rising from flames with "Venus" and "House" on its wings. "And this is me now. Thank you for my wings. Love, Sarah J," reads along the bottom.

Sue Ellen's phone rings.

"John Ross?" she says into the land line.

"Aw hell are you waitin' on the line for that damn son of yours to call, Sue Ellen?" Ruby drawls into the phone.

Sue Ellen looks upward for strength. She is not in the mood for Ruby's lecturing right now. "Good evenin' Ruby. I am not waiting on the line. I just placed a call to him a few moments ago, that's all."

"Mm hmm. Well. I seen you come up the drive just as I finished smokin' the most beautiful tri tip you ever did see. Why don't you come on have some with me?" Ruby asks.

Sue Ellen smiles at Ruby's mothering, "Thank you so much Miss Ruby, but I'd rather not tonight. It's been a long day and I'm afraid I'm not very good company just now. Next time?"

"Huh. Well. Suit yourself then. But you best eat somethin' besides that cornbread, gal. You got to keep your energy up for campaigning, you hear? I'm sendin' Paul Two over with a plate then," Ruby says and hangs up before Sue Ellen protests.

Sue Ellen puts the blue letters inside a file drawer with stacks of others and walks to the side door off the atrium that faces Ruby's grand mansion. Sure enough, Paul Two's silhouette is coming up the back of the drive, plate in hand. He activates the sensor light as he comes near, arousing Bowie and Crockett who flank Sue Ellen. She opens the door and greets him.

He replies in his Jamaican cadence, "Good evening Mrs. Ewing. Miss Ruby sends her best regards and says to clean your plate. I think she mean eat all the food, not wash the plate," Paul Two says and smiles wide.

Sue Ellen finds his smile infectious and returns it. "Thank you Paul. I'll enjoy it. I promise. Send my thanks, will you?"

"Of course Mrs. Ewing, I'll do it! And please, come see Miss Ruby soon. You know how she get if she don't see your face. She gonna send me here every day until she do," he says.

"Oh Paul. She's a dear lady, isn't she? Bossy and ornery, but dear all the same. You tell her I'll be by come the weekend, alright?" Sue Ellen says. They say goodnight and she closes the door, activates the house alarm for the night and walks to the kitchen to put the plate in the refrigerator.

The tri tip's heat warms her hand through the plate. She looks down and lifts the foil off to see it. A billow of steam floats up with the glorious smell of perfectly smoked tri tip. Sue Ellen is instantly transported back to a Southfork barbecue. In her mind's eye she sees Miss Ellie and Jock dancing, Bobby and Pam arm in arm, Lucy flirting with every cowboy as Ray Krebbs watches her. And then she sees JR looking across the crowd, his Stetson pulled down low. She is trying to catch his eye. She wears a deep red sundress with a beautiful little fringed cream shawl. She can even here the ice cubes clinking in her glass. The warm Texas wind brushes against her face, blowing her hair about. Finally JR looks over and smiles, raising his glass to her.

A loud crash snaps Sue Ellen back to present. She has dropped the plate of tri tip on the kitchen floor. The dogs immediately start eating it. She shoos them away to pick up the broken plate pieces and then lets them continue licking up the spilled food. She drifts upstairs to her master bedroom, turns the light on dimly and changes into her nightgown. As she hangs up her clothes, something on the top shelf of her huge walk-in closet catches her eye.

She slides her attached rolling ladder over, climbs up and removes a slightly worn white Stetson from the shelf. She comes down the ladder and stands still with the hat for a moment. She brushes it against her face, closes her eyes and inhales JR's scent. Clutching the hat to her chest, she crawls into her king-sized bed, lays on her side, places the Stetson on the white satin pillow beside her and turns out the light.


	2. Chapter 2

Mark arrives at the office before dawn this morning, giant vanilla cappuccino in hand. Instead of getting coffee at his neighborhood "7-11", he stopped at the one on Commerce Street near the office so as not to drink the whole thing before arriving at work. None of the staff drink coffee and Aubrey insists the smell of it makes her "want to vomit". Mark takes that as a ban on coffee pots. Pick your battles, he says to himself every time he craves coffee at work.

Aubrey has a lot of particulars. He looks at her cubicle across from his office. All of her desk accessories are shades of green, her Post It notes too. Aubrey even has big green eyes that follow your every move. Mark thinks she has an extra pair on the back of her head under that glossy long black hair. Yes, Aubrey looks like a black cat. She slinks and crouches around the office, listening here, purring there until you tell her what she wants to know. Mark wonders when she'll pounce and slice someone's throat open with her claws. Cats are unpredictable that way.

Mark is glad he has a few hours to work before Aubrey arrives and he must give her Sue Ellen's campaign calendar while he researches Harris Ryland. He's sure to get a big green eye roll at that. Aubrey is the campaign's "social media specialist". Mark does air quotes when he says that. Anything aside from tweeting and Facebooking gets push back from Aubrey. He is disgusted with himself for dreading this reaction. But he knows she will complain to Sue Ellen who will of course back the decision, but pacify her ego. How does she play Sue Ellen so easily?

The dawn is breaking. Mark closes his office door on the green-eyed vixen's lair and focuses on the task at hand. He starts with Googling Harris Ryland. After collecting sufficient information for a general personal and business profile, Mark logs onto the network and enters his password into their data mining account.

###

Sue Ellen punches her alarm clock's snooze button, clicks on the bedside lamp and turns over. She sits up on one elbow at the sight of JR's white Stetson hat on the pillow next to her. She slaps it away and shakes her head at last night's melancholy. What's gotten into her? Why is she thinking of JR lately? JR…

How mesmerized she'd been by him when he was a judge at the Miss Texas beauty pageant and all these years later he's still casting his spell on her. Seeing him at the Cattlemen's Ball was indescribable. She was shocked, exhilarated and nauseous all at once. When he checked out under that depression for the last seven years, she knew exactly where he was up in that assisted living home; she knew exactly what he was doing – nothing. Now he's back, seemingly free to roam and giving her cause to wonder what he's up to again.

Her snooze button sounds and declares she's spent another 15 minutes thinking about JR. No. She's not having it. Like Dr. Elby always told her, no one controls your thoughts unless you let them.

"Get outta my head JR, you old son of a bitch. I've got big things to do today and I'm done thinking about you. For now," she adds as she gets out of bed.

Sue Ellen wraps her black silk robe around herself and forgoes breakfast to sit downstairs and review the latest health care briefing Mark prepared for her meeting today. She is annoyed with herself for rushing through this. She is a special guest of the State Medicaid Director and it's a privilege to attend this Health Care Reform Committee meeting, if only as an observer. She'd have prepared more thoroughly last night if she hadn't time travelled back to the Southfork barbecue.

"Damn you JR. You just can't leave me be, can you?" she says and goes back upstairs to dress. She walks around her bed, picks JR's hat off the floor and throws it like a Frisbee to the top shelf of her closet.

###

Mark stares at his monitor. He backs out of the screens one by one and checks his inputs. All correct. He realizes his face is inches away from the computer screen. He leans back in his chair and wipes his palms on his pants repeatedly. Oh God. It's happening. He's got nothing. He's found nothing on Ryland for Sue Ellen.

Sue Ellen knocks on Marks office door. It's already 10 a.m. He opens it and brushes the sweat off his lip as she smiles at him.

"Good morning Mark. How are you doin' today?" she says.

"Yes! I mean, good. I'm fine. Good morning Mrs. Ewing," he says, standing frozen at the door.

"Good, good," Sue Ellen says. "Well I'm just about to leave for the health care meeting so I won't be back until late this afternoon. You working on our project?"

At hearing this, Aubrey whips her chair around and looks at Mark.

"Uh, yes. Yes ma'am I am. Right…yes. It's going well. It's going fine," Mark is horrified by his lying mouth.

Sue Ellen beams at him and pats him on the shoulder. "You're wonderful Mark. You're the ace up my sleeve," she says and winks at him. "We'll sit down and talk when I return then?"

Mark just nods. Sue Ellen goes back to her office.

"So. What's the special project Mark?" Aubrey asks. "Should I be like posting about it on Facebook? It's important to keep our supporters, our _voters_, informed, Mark. Seriously. How many times have I said that?"

"Probably close to 100 times," Mark says.

"What? Did you just seriously say that? It was a rhetorical question. God. What's the PROJECT about?" Aubrey says.

"I'm researching – "

"He's researching an opponent's strategy, honey," Sue Ellen says as she walks by on her way out. "Aubrey, darlin', you did such a nice job on the Fort Worth rally event page on Facebook. I see we've got a number of people planning to go already. Thank you."

"Of course. You're welcome Sue Ellen," Aubrey says with a smile. Sue Ellen walks away.

"You've got coffee stains on your tie. Gross," Aubrey says to Mark.

About halfway from the health care meeting site, Sue Ellen's iPad makes the sound indicating a new message received in her private email account. Only a few people have the address. Sue Ellen hopes it's from John Ross, accepting her invitation to dinner. She wishes she'd taken Aubrey's suggestion to hire a driver to take her to the meeting. The traffic on the I-30 is congested and she's traveling out to Fort Worth at little over 35 mph. She's tempted to pull her iPad out of her bag and open the email. As a novice iPad user, she thinks better of it while driving.

Nearly 30 minutes later, Sue Ellen sees the University of North Texas Health Science Center up ahead. She pulls into the parking structure and games for a spot, happy she has almost 20 minutes to spare. After a few passes on the lower floors she drives all the way up to the roof. Better reception up there for the iPad anyway.

She parks but keeps the air conditioner running and takes out the iPad. She taps her little email icon and smiles in anticipation that John Ross has made some time for her. Her inbox displays and indicates one new message from Harris Ryland. What? Sue Ellen's disappointment is quickly replaced with annoyance and a bit of alarm. How did he get this email address and what's this about? The message's subject line is simply "Check Mate" and there is a media file attached.

Should she open it? What if it's a virus? That is something Ryland would do just for the hell of it. She wishes Mark were here to ask. She could call him. No. She doesn't want to seem like a paranoid old broad afraid of technology. Plus he's busy working on her project. But what if opening it allows Ryland access to her linked accounts? Her campaign emails and personal correspondence? God! Sue Ellen curses the day Harris Ryland was born.

Stop it. Calm down. This hysteria is exactly what he would enjoy. Now think. Didn't Mark explain how secure the Apple operating system is? And the email clearly indicates it's from Ryland. Wouldn't it be stupid to use your own name to launch a virus? To hell with it. She double clicks the media file. A video begins playing. Sue Ellen gasps and her stomach churns. She turns the volume up all the way, shaking her head in disbelief.

There she is, in the Medical Examiner's lab asking him to rule Marta Del Sol's death a suicide for John Ross's sake. Sue Ellen closes her eyes when the video replays her offering the Examiner a post in her gubernatorial cabinet as a bribe. She hears her own voice trying to manipulate him. She thinks she sounds ridiculous. How could she have been so careless? Of course there are video cameras in the coroner's office.

Sue Ellen pauses the video. That familiar wave of despair is rising within her. For a few moments she wonders what gave her the idea she could do this – make power plays against these men, virtually bust her son out of jail, run for governor – any of it, all of it? She turns the air conditioner vent towards her and cranks it full blast. She looks upward, searching for something…an idea, a favor to call in…She focuses on the mighty UNT Center for BioHealth tower rising above her. So much ground-breaking research going on in there. So many lives, possibly her own, may be saved by the beautiful minds inside some day. And the meeting she's here for is a step towards that.

No. She will not be moved by Harris Ryland's bullying and she won't clean his dirty money either. _He can kiss my rich Texas ass on that_, she says to herself. I'm not anyone's fool anymore and I'll be damned if I'll be in someone's pocket just for one small mistake on behalf of my son's welfare.

"Bring it, you dirty bastard," Sue Ellen says aloud. "Is this all you've got?"

It dawns on her that if Ryland were to use this video against her he would also expose the Medical Examiner's crime of ruling the death a suicide. So his friend is only collateral damage to him. Sue Ellen makes a mental note of this. Ryland's not to be trusted on any level, surprise, surprise.

She makes herself watch the rest of the video, closes the player and scrolls down the message to see the text, "You've got 24 hours to get back to me, or this plays on the evening news. Tick, tock honey."

Sue Ellen slaps her iPad cover closed. Just wait until Ryland sees whatever unscrupulous things Mark's uncovered on him. It's sure to turn the tables and we'll see who's clock is ticking then, Sue Ellen thinks. She powders her face, applies fresh red lipstick and walks to the building with a big smile on her face.


	3. Cold As Ice Chapter 3

Harris Ryland's computer dings with the arrival of a new email. He checks his Rolex Daytona watch, 11:15 a.m., and rolls his desk chair over to the large computer monitor. His inbox shows one new message, a return receipt for the unpleasant video he sent Sue Ellen this morning. Excellent, she's opened it. Harris nearly squeals with glee. Even he is surprised by the extent of joy he feels knowing she has seen his proof of her laughable attempt to bribe the Medical Examiner. Silly old gal.

Yes, Sue Ellen was just another mama battling blind for her child, lobbing little firecrackers at foes who mean him harm only to have them fizzle out on impact. She's got no business with these political aspirations of hers, none at all. What's she think? Any old rich bitch can come along and buy the governorship like a new handbag? Well now, it just may be her lucky day. The office might be for sale and Harris might broker the deal for her. But she'll damn well do as she's told. Sooner she learns that the better, for both of them.

Harris cuts his reveling short and gets in the right frame of mind to receive a phone call any moment from a hysterical Sue Ellen. He's got to play this just right, like the owner of a new puppy that's soiled the carpet – firm enough to show who's boss but forgiving to where the puppy still wants to please its owner. Harris hopes he doesn't laugh. The work day is so much more entertaining with these emotional little women dabbling in business.

Twenty minutes pass. His phone does not ring.

###

Sue Ellen listens to the health care discussion from her chair on one side of the longest conference table she's ever seen. The great length between table ends could not be more apropos for the polarizing views this Texas Health Care Reform Committee expresses today. It is easy to pin political affiliation on each speaker, even if Mark hadn't researched the attendees for her.

Sue Ellen sits next to her friend, State Medicaid Director Amalie Marx, who introduced her as seeking candidacy for governor when the meeting began. The discussion sounds so clinical to Sue Ellen. She doubts any of these people are personally affected by the points they are making. The group members are all employed by well-known agencies. They have health insurance and perhaps they've never even had to use it beyond routine things.

The discussion turns toward prescription drugs. Sue Ellen listens patiently at first. Before long her tail feathers are bristling. She bites her lip trying to keep quiet; she's only an observer here.

A health insurance executive is speaking about the pre-existing condition exclusions now. He confirms his risk analysis figures with his underwriter sitting beside him for emphasis. He is endorsing current policy as if it were as simple as deciding to invest in waterfront property or a doublewide trailer in Redbird.

Before she knows it, Sue Ellen is standing. The speaker stops. Other attendees look up from their mobile devices. They turn from him to Sue Ellen who is staring at him as she stands in place. "Pardon me for interrupting. But I have something to add, if I may," she asks.

Certain she can't pass up a chance to plug her campaign, the insurance manager says, "Oh. I'm sure you do Mrs. Ewing. Please, continue," he says with a smirk.

"Thank you. Just a quick moment, if you please. I qualify for Medicare this year, although you may find that hard to believe," Sue Ellen winks and gets a few tentative laughs. I'm thankful for it, because before turning 65 this year I paid for my care myself. Not just insurance, my entire care – medicine, tests, procedures, surgeries – all of it. Good thing I'm wealthy because on occasion my medical bills were more than a year's salary for most of you," Sue Ellen says. With this, she has everyone's complete attention.

"You see, I have a pre-existing condition. I am one of those risks you were talking about," she says. A young assistant sitting one row behind the table makes the sign for drinking with his thumb and pinky and holds it to his mouth for a second. He and his coworker share a knowing smile.

"And not for drinking," Sue Ellen continues. "Let's not ignore the elephant in the room, ladies and gentleman. I am a recovering alcoholic. I'm not proud of it, but I haven't touched a drop in 20 years and I am proud of that. So end of story," she says.

"My point is that I am very fortunate I can pay for my care and I'm reminded of that every evening at 6 p.m. when I take my expensive pill. Without it I'd be long dead. I take Atripla because I am HIV positive. I was diagnosed 12 years ago. Overall I'm doing well because I get proper treatment. I've had an undetectable viral load for quite some time and I may even expect to live an average life span. But that changes the instant I stop my treatment regimen. Simple as that," Sue Ellen says. The room is silent.

Sue Ellen clears her throat and continues. She is surprised and emboldened by her own steadiness. "I'm not looking for your pity or your well wishes. I am telling you this to put a face on your policy decisions, to humanize this most important process."

"There are tens of thousands of us on the cliff's edge, if not already thrown off. The able-bodied unemployed who do not qualify for Medicare, the part-time uninsured workers who develop conditions before they can get coverage, the fixed income seniors facing Medicare cuts, these are all failures of humanity. We can do better. We must do better and it starts here, with your committee. I urge you to support health care reform. I changed political parties because of it and it is a cornerstone of my campaign," Sue Ellen says.

All the attendees sit transfixed on her. No one moves or speaks. As Sue Ellen sits back down, her friend Amalie touches her hand. Sue Ellen notices the woman on her other side scoot her chair slightly away and she is reminded once more of the scarlet letter she wears.

The meeting adjourns shortly after with food for thought and items tabled for next month. Sue Ellen thanks the group for the experience and walks back to Amalie's office with her. Along the way Sue Ellen shares her frustration with the chair scooter.

"Sue Ellen, honey, my grandparents were German Jews who fled to America to escape the Holocaust. You don't have to explain feeling persecuted to me. I understand this most cruel injustice on any level. Channel your fury, use it to change what needs changin'. You're here today, you spoke up. You're doing it and I believe in you. Sue Ellen smiles and nods her head. Amalie hugs her and says, "How about dinner now?"

"Oh I'd love to, I really would – "

"But?"

"But I've got an important meeting with a campaign assistant," Sue Ellen says.

"Huh. Driving back to Dallas in rush hour on a Thursday night? Must be _real_ important, honey," Amalie jokes.

"He's disarming an incoming missile," Sue Ellen replies.

"Ooh sounds dangerous. I hope you counter-attack! Well as always, let me know if I can be of help. Goodnight honey, you drive safe now," Amalie says.

Sue Ellen blows her a kiss and nearly runs back to her car. Making her statement in the meeting was exhilarating. She is meant to do this, she knows it. She wants be a spokesperson at the State level, a real policy maker. Imagine.

Sue Ellen sits in her car on the parking structure roof and calls Mark. He picks up on the first ring. "Hello Mark! The meeting went so well. I spoke about what my illness would be like for the uninsured…put a real face to policy, you know? Everyone sat bug-eyed and frozen in place. It felt wonderful. If nothing else, I got them thinking about what they're doing here, what they're doing to people's lives. Well, more later. How are you doing? I can't wait to meet and see what you've got for me on Harris Ryland!...Mark? Are you there?"

"Yes, yes I'm here. That's just great Mrs. Ewing. I admire you, I really do. It's an honor to work on your campaign. It really is. Um. Yes. Well, Mrs. Ewing? You know I completely support your candidacy right?" Mark asks.

"Well of course, yes of course I do Mark. Is everything alright? You sound, I don't know, different...Hey, is someone trying to recruit you? Is that it Mark? I'm not surprised. You are so smart and clever with those computers," Sue Ellen says.

"No! Oh no, not at all Mrs. Ewing. No, I'm fine and I'm not interested in another job. I think I'm just hungry. Low blood sugar or whatever it is," Mark says.

"Oh of course. I'm sorry Mark, I've kept you waiting on me and it's nearly dinner time. You sit tight. I'm calling Bob's Steak and Chop right now and have a delicious meal fit for a king delivered to you. I –"

"Oh god no Mrs. Ewing, that is not necessary, believe me – "

Sue Ellen interrupts, "Now you listen to me young man. There will be steak and you will eat it and love it, because you deserve it. Is that clear?" She laughs and says goodbye. Hiring him was a great decision. She's got to call Lucy and thank her again.

###

Mark hangs up his desk phone. The receiver is wet from his sweaty palm. God. Mrs. Ewing is driving back from Fort Worth totally psyched about her health care meeting and eager to hear what he's got for her…and he's got air, absolutely nothing. And she's sending a steak dinner from a five-star chop house to boot. Mark laughs aloud at his epic failure.

He takes his coffee-stained tie, as Aubrey so kindly pointed out this morning, and pulls it up around his neck like a noose. He suddenly sees Aubrey's reflection in his computer monitor. She is looking at him through the blinds of his office window as he tightens his tie noose. He turns and waves at her. She shakes her head and leaves for the day.

Mark's phone rings again. Oh god. Here she is again. It's Mrs. Ewing calling back to ask exactly what he's found. Why wouldn't she? He couldn't believe she hadn't already. The phone rings two, three, four times. Mark punches his thigh with his fist. Oh man up, he says to himself. Shoot the dying horse already.

"Hello?"

"Hey there Marky, it's Lucy! How's my geeky little brother-in-law?"

"Oh, Lucy! Oh – "

"Well you sure sound happy I called," Lucy giggles. "I have that effect on people, you know."

"Yeah, well, it must be great to be you," Mark says.

"Geez, why so cranky Marky? Is my Auntie Sue Ellen bustin' your ass at work?"

"No, no. It's been busy but I love it. It's a great job and Mrs. Ewing is cool. I think she's a real good candidate, too. She's pushing honesty in politics and true to form she'll take any question from press or public. Mrs. Ewing's pretty amazing."

"Mrs. Ewing, huh? Sue Ellen bein' haughty with you, is she? She does have that little streak of bitch in her, Mark! You should have seen how mean she was to Bobby's first wife Pamela when she come to live at Southfork a hundred years ago," Lucy says.

"No, she's been real nice. But some of her visitors been pretty rude lately."

"Who, JR? Hahaha! I heard he's back at Southfork stirring up trouble already," Lucy says.

"No not Mr. Ewing. Some older business man came in here yesterday, just barged right in on us when I was briefing Mrs. Ewing in the conference room. And this guy brought her a bottle of wine. Wine, Lucy! Everyone knows her, well, situation. And then he poured her a glass, I saw through the window after she told me to leave the room – "

"What!"

"Yeah. She looked real weird, like a little scared and mad as hell at the same time," Mark said.

"Well did she drink it?"

"The wine? No! Of course not. She spilled it. Knocked over the glass and asked me to help her clean it up," Mark said.

"Well who was the man? Are you sure it wasn't JR? Sure sounds like something he would do," Lucy asked, still laughing.

"No. It was Harris Ryland, the transportation company owner, you know, Ryland Trucking, the oil tankers and all?"

"Harris Ryland! Is that what he's calling himself now? I remember him years ago flirting with me at Southfork, and I was only sweet 16 mind you! He was a lot older than me. JR brought him around a few times. Yeah back then he was Lloyd Ryland Harris. I liked his middle name, thought it was sexy. Told him he should go by that. But you know they used to call him Stretch, on account of being so tall and skinny. He was real skinny for a grown man, you know? Guess he thought Harris was a better first name than last, huh? Better than Lloyd anyway. I mean really, that's an old man's name. Who would name a little baby Lloyd?..."

Mark had stopped listening at Lloyd Ryland Harris. He watches wide-eyed as the data mining software displays an ever growing link chart of buildings, commodities, vehicles and other assets attached to the name he typed in as soon as Lucy said it.

"Mark? Are you there? MARK!"

"Yes! Lucy, sorry, yes I'm here! Listen, I've got to go. I'm up against a deadline so talk to you soon, okay? Thank you so much for calling Lucy. You're the best! I mean it!" Mark doesn't wait for her to say goodbye. Lucy hears him scream "F*** yeah!" before the line goes dead. Lucy smiles at the countless men she's heard that from.

###

Mark salivates thinking of the dinner from Bob's Steak and Chop House as he takes the elevator to the lobby where the courier awaits. He's never been to Bob's but it is legendary in the area. Turns out the steak won't be a "last meal" after all. He can enjoy it guilt free now that he has something curious on Harris Ryland for Sue Ellen. He wonders would she have fired him if he'd come up empty? Better not to find out.

"You Mark Ellis?" the courier asks as Mark approaches.

"Yup. And I'm starving!" Mark says.

The courier smiles, looks at Mark's belly and says 'Yeah buddy, I bet you are. Well good for you then. This here's a real feast." He hands a sizable insulated carrier to Mark, all black with the restaurant's name in simple white letters.

"Oh, um, wow. I should have brought something with me to carry it all upstairs," Mark says, blushing that he expected a Styrofoam take-out box.

"Naw buddy. Container's yours to keep. This here's our best selection, 16 ounce prime filet mignon and two chops on the side, all the fixins too. You musta done somethin' right, huh? Better get to it, now," the courier says.

Mark suddenly remembers the tip and takes out his wallet. It holds $3 cash. He swallows hard and offers the three little bills to the man, "Uh, here you go. Sorry, I wasn't expecting this dinner."

The man laughs too loudly. "No worries buddy! I already got taken care of, real good if I do say so myself. Mrs. Ewing's been a customer for years. You put them dollars back in your wallet." He punches Mark on the shoulder and leaves.

###

Savory aromas fill Mark's office as he opens all the containers, each holding another culinary delight. Caesar salad, steak, pork chops with applesauce, baked and smashed potatoes, asparagus and the trademark glazed carrot. Mark relishes the meal more with every bite and devours nearly all of it. He pushes back from the small table in his office and fires off a long and thunderous belch.

"Well sounds like you did your very best on that steak!" Sue Ellen says in the doorway. "Every man loves a good burp, doesn't he? You're all the same," Sue Ellen says, shaking her head with a smile.

"Oh my god, Mrs. Ewing! I didn't hear you come in…god. I'm sorry, that was disgusting – I mean the burp, not the dinner…The dinner was fantastic, I - " Mark jumps up from his chair.

Sue Ellen laughs. "Relax Mark. It's just you and me. What's a burp among friends, huh?" Mark smiles tightly. "I'm pretty hungry myself," Sue Ellen says as she looks at the carnage on Mark's table.

Mark's eyes widen. "Oh no…were the chops for you Mrs. Ewing? I, uh, I ate them. I ate all of it."

"Ah, and here's the evidence," Sue Ellen says pointing to a small blob of applesauce on his tie. She smiles and hands him a napkin. "No honey, that was all for you. A little thanks for your hard work and, well, just being a nice young man. You always come through for me and I do appreciate it. I'm glad you enjoyed it, all but the veggies," Sue Ellen says eying the untouched glazed carrot and asparagus. "Let me at your scraps," she winks at him and sits down.

Mark starts hastily cleaning up his trash on the table.

"Mark, stop. Just sit down here and talk to me while I eat," Sue Ellen says. "And leave Harris Ryland out of it. We'll get to him later. Let's just take a break from the action for a minute and relax. Tell me what you're up to for the weekend," she says.

"Oh, okay, sure. Well let's see, tomorrow night my brother's got to get out of the house for Lucy's ladies' night. She's got girlfriends coming over to see a movie, I think that "Magic Mike" flick. So Boone has to leave for the evening. I think we'll go eat barbecue and then who knows what after. He'll probably try to drag me to the police shooting range again. My brother's sort of a cowboy, you know," Marks says.

"Yes, I've heard something to that effect," says Sue Ellen. "I think that's one of the reasons Lucy loves him. She always was partial to cowboys," Sue Ellen says and smiles. "Aw little Lucy. She's a grown woman but she'll always be little Lucy to me. She doin' alright?"

"Yeah, seems to be," Mark says. "In fact she called me this afternoon. She uh, she says hello," Mark says.

"Oh you give her my best, will you? We need to catch up soon," Sue Ellen says.

As Sue Ellen nibbles on the veggies and Mark continues sharing his weekend plans, she realizes she still has not heard back from John Ross. It's been two days since she left a voice mail asking him to dinner.

"Mrs. Ewing?" Mark says.

"Yes, yes I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Oh, I was just saying that brings me to Sunday and your Fort Worth rally," Mark says.

Sue Ellen puts her fork down. "That's right, isn't it? Slipped my mind until you just said so."

"You've got a lot on your mind Mrs. Ewing. Frankly, your schedule would knock me out. You know I did give your calendar to Aubrey like you asked. She really should have already sent you a text reminder for the rally," Mark says, testing the waters.

"Oh it's alright. I'm sure she'll remind me tomorrow. Just takes a little getting used to a new task, I think. You know how important it is to her to do a good job. She's a perfectionist if ever there was one," Sue Ellen says.

It's now or never, Mark tells himself. "Actually Mrs. Ewing, Aubrey was pretty pissed about taking your calendar." Sue Ellen looks up from her plate. "She's not real keen on doing things she says fall outside of "social media", he says and instantly regrets using air quotes. Bad habit.

Sue Ellen cocks her head, "You don't like her," she says. "Well look at you Mark, you do have an opinion after all. Good for you."

"Please, don't misunderstand Mrs. Ewing. It's not personal. I just…well, she can be very difficult to work with. And to be honest, I really don't trust her," Mark says.

"Mark, I know Aubrey comes on strong sometimes but try to think of it as passion for the job. She doesn't mean any harm. As for trustworthiness, you might be picking up on something she has trouble with herself. She hasn't had it easy. Let's just say I think she's still coming into her own and leave it at that," Sue Ellen says. "Now, how about we turn our attention to the newest thorn in my side, Harris Ryland? What have you got for me?"

Sue Ellen and Mark sit in front of his computer monitor that displays a small link chart shaped like a spider web with "Harris Ryland" in the middle surrounded by one ring of data connected to his name with lines ending in different icons for property, vehicles, people and businesses.

Mark rubs his hands together like a mad scientist. "Okay Mrs. Ewing, hang on to your hat! This is the search result for "Harris Ryland". It returned nothing but ownership of Ryland Transportation and associated transactions: payroll taxes, insurance premiums, fleet purchases and maintenance, trucking violations, and contracts notarized with the State Department of Commerce, etcetera."

Mark clicks on the 'contracts' icon. "Now look here at this list. Barron Drilling, Lonestar Inc, Southern Energy Network, Ramos Oil, Wade Resources, and on. These are all small to mid-scale oil exploration companies that contract transport services to Mr. Ryland." Mark scrolls down page after page of companies. " He's got loads of them, not only in Dallas but all over the state."

"So he's very successful. Impressive, but I don't intend on complimenting him."Sue Ellen sighs and clenches her fists. "There's just got to be more – "

"Oh there's more alright!" Mark laughs wildly, startling Sue Ellen. "Sorry, sorry. I just get really excited about this stuff," he says and brings up a new window on the screen. It displays a much larger link chart spider web with "Lloyd Ryland Harris" in the middle. About 20 different connector lines shoot off from the new name. The lines end with the same little icons of buildings, people and vehicles but they anchor a second ring of data passing through different icons all ultimately connecting back to Lloyd Ryland Harris.

Sue Ellen leans forward, "Lloyd Ryland Harris? Is that his real name? I don't recall…I, well, I think JR knew him when they were real young men, before I met JR. I suppose I could ask him."

"I wouldn't do that, Mrs. Ewing. No I most certainly would not. At least consider the rest of this before you decide," Mark points to the new link chart.

"Go on," Sue Ellen says, eyes widening with excitement.

Mark clicks the contracts icon of this new link chart. "This is the only record of a contract. It's with CoolTech Trucking for vehicle maintenance. Mrs. Ewing, CoolTech is a highly specialized company. They maintain and repair refrigeration trucks. Make sure the trucks meet FDA standards for transporting consumable products, food and beverage, that's it. Not commodities or chemicals. They don't come cheap, but they're one of the best in the business from what I've learned today. So their customers' goods are important enough to pay for that assurance; high quality, fine-tuned, dependable refrigeration."

"So assuming Lloyd Ryland Harris is in fact Harris Ryland, what is he refrigerating?" Sue Ellen asks.

"That's the big question," says Mark. He clicks on an icon of a building with a dollar symbol on it. "This here is a business. See how it's in the second circle out from the center? That's because it's a subsidiary company with parent ownership ultimately linking back to our guy, Lloyd Ryland Harris."

"What's this company about?" Sue Ellen asks.

"It's called AAH Imports and from what's documented here appears to import novelties from Mexico, piñatas, gourd shakers, sombreros, ponchos, stuff like that." Sue Ellen gives mark a puzzled look.

"Tell me about it. It made no sense to me either, until I researched acquisitions for AAH Imports. AAH purchased five refrigeration trucks last year and another 10 so far this year. These trucks are big investments. They're not just refrigerated cargo containers that are loaded on and off semi trucks. They are self contained refrigeration trucks, not your neighborhood ice cream vans, Mrs. Ewing, high grade professional cooling trucks," Mark says.

"And what's more, AAH is on file as a client of CoolTech Trucking for maintenance. So this tells us two things. First, it appears the trucks are being used since AAH is paying for maintenance. Second, AAH and CoolTech both have Lloyd Ryland Harris in common," Mark says.

Sue Ellen writes both company names down. "I'm following what you've said Mark, but I think I'm missing something here."

"That's right Mrs. Ewing, something is missing. Something real important," Mark says. He pulls the first contract list back up and puts it side by side with CoolTech Trucking and AAH Imports company profiles. "Now this long list of contracts here for Ryland Transportation, nothing but oil and hazardous by-product removal. And these import tax categories for AAH, no food or beverage noted. I researched every venture associated with both of Ryland's names and found nothing needing refrigeration. No food, no beverage, no chemical, nothing. Mrs. Ewing, one of these things is not like the others," Mark says.

Sue Ellen stares at the screen, following the connector lines back and forth with her eyes. "How sure are you that the two names are both Ryland?"

"Pretty damn sure. Same birthday, both birthplace of Braddock, Texas, and one property in common, a condo on White Rock Lake sold by Lloyd Ryland Harris 20 years ago, but a property tax payment by Harris Ryland just last year. Now I can't access social security numbers since we don't have a law enforcement account on the software to eliminate any doubt, but I'd say this is all too coincidental as it is," Mark says and leans back from the computer. He does not mention Lucy's tip to the name today and looks away from Sue Ellen at the thought of the phone call.

Sue Ellen slowly nods her head. She recalls Ryland's request to launder money through her PAC and the blackmail video with the 24-hour deadline ending at 11:00 tomorrow morning.

"Mrs. Ewing, I'm sorry I can't tell you exactly why he's got these refrigerated trucks, it's just not documented and that's a clue in itself. Is there anything else you can think of that might help? Something he's said to you or…?" Mark asks.

After a moment Sue Ellen says, "No, no I really can't think of anything."

Mark thinks of the note he saw on Sue Ellen's desk this morning before she arrived that said "Harris Ryland asks to pass money through PAC in exchange for ME". He is disappointed she doesn't tell him about it.

Sue Ellen continues, "But when he came to see me the other day, he tried to bully me into doing something I don't agree with. And people who play that way don't follow the rules in any aspect of life. Harris Ryland is up to something and I think you've hit on it Mark. I'm going to follow your hunch and mine. This is high stakes poker, honey, and I guess you could say I'm goin' all in."


	4. Chapter 4

***Note to Isabel** - I don't see an option to reply to your reviews so I thought I'd say thank you here. I really appreciate you taking the time to share your reaction. Thank you!

* * *

What an extraordinary day, Sue Ellen thinks on her short drive home from the office. Speaking at the Health Care Reform meeting, the nugget of curious information Mark found on Harris Ryland, she and Mark bonding enough for him to call out Aubrey to her, bless his heart. That wasn't easy for him. He must really mistrust Aubrey. Well he'll come around once he gets to know her better. If only everyone came with an instruction manual, Sue Ellen thinks and imagines how thick hers would be.

She arrives home and feeds her hungry Dobies, Bowie and Crockett. She checks her answering machine and her cell phone once more; no messages. A call back from John Ross would have made this a five-star day indeed. Maybe she'll try him again later.

Right now she feels drawn to her blue letters from Venus House. She's gotten one more in today's mail. It reads like a beautiful declaration of independence and Sue Ellen treasures it. She files it away and then removes one letter from last year to re-read. Sue Ellen smiles at the memory of hiring Aubrey, a girl damaged on the beauty pageant circuit by a misguided mother. She'd seen so much of herself in Aubrey's letter, she just had to reach out to her. Speaking of reaching out, Sue Ellen puts the letter away and dials John Ross on her cell phone.

"John Ross, darlin' it's me again. I haven't heard back from you…maybe you didn't get my message the other day? Well, I'd really like to take you to dinner and catch up. Won't you call as soon as you can, honey? All right then. I love you, bye bye."

It's already 11 p.m. High time to prepare for battle tomorrow. Sue Ellen goes upstairs and sits in one of the white leather chairs by the dressing table in the middle of her huge walk-in closet. She pushes the remote button that activates the rack of red clothing on the conveyor belt and eyes the dresses and suits in every shade of red now before her.

A fitted mid-length dress with long sleeves, a low neckline and swirled black piping on the fire engine red bodice catches her eye. _Yes. You're the one._ She holds it up to herself in one of the mirrors. The dress almost resembles a bull fighter's outfit.

"That's right. Come and get it you smug son of a bitch," Sue Ellen says as she waves the dress back and forth like a matador's cape.

The phone on Harris Ryland's secretary's desk rings at exactly 8 a.m.

"Good mornin', Harris Ryland please. This is Sue Ellen Ewing."

"Oh I'm sorry Mrs. Ewing but Mr. Ryland is already in a meeting," the secretary says.

"Is that right? You sure he's not just pretending to be busy, honey? It's only just eight o'clock. You know how these men can play," Sue Ellen adds with a laugh.

"Oh no Mrs. Ewing. Mr. Ryland's meeting with account managers here in his office, same as he does first thing every Friday."

"Well that's too bad. Tell me, how long does the meeting tend to last?"

"At least until 10:00. Shall I ask him to return your call then?"

"Yes, yes please. He has my number. Thank you darlin'," Sue Ellen hangs up. This is getting better by the minute. A grand entrance! Sue Ellen nearly skips back to her dressing room. She turns and prances one last time in the mirror, touches up her red lipstick and winks at her reflection. She goes downstairs, removes a small cooler from the freezer and leaves for Harris Ryland's office.

Sue Ellen's silver Porsche pulls into the Dallas office building. The directory says "Ryland Transportation" is on the top floor. She enters the elevator and pushes button 20.

Sue Ellen's breathing quickens with every floor up. She tries to calm herself. Carrie Underwood's song from the drive over keeps replaying a lyric in her head, "I might save a little trouble for the next girl." _That's right. This is for all the girls Ryland has ever bullied. Sweet Jesus help me do this just right._

A ding announces the twentieth floor and the elevator doors open to a plush lobby with a modern sculpture made of little steel highways revolving around a giant globe. Sue Ellen's watch reads 8:40 a.m. No one sits at the outer receptionist's desk but a coffee mug steams by the computer. At the sight of Harris Ryland through the double glass doors, Sue Ellen goes on autopilot. Her breathing slows, she wets her lips and tilts her chin up.

Ryland is in his conference room speaking to a group of people. Through the office doors Sue Ellen walks and straight for the conference room she goes.

"Oh, excuse me! Ma'am? Excuse me, you can't go in there!" says Ryland's secretary.

Sue Ellen does not flinch. Ryland catches sight of her coming towards the conference room. _Oh would you look at this! Here she is first thing in the morning come to beg forgiveness. Mmm and that dress! She does clean up nice. I may enjoy tapping that even more than Annie._

Sue Ellen walks right in to the conference room, smiling big. "Hello Harris. I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" she says as if the group of people were not even there.

"Why Sue Ellen Ewing. What a surprise! What brings you here this morning?"

"I have something important to discuss with you."

"Huh. Well see I'm a little busy right now," Ryland says and motions to his staff.

"Harris this really cannot wait. I do apologize," Sue Ellen gives him her best pleading expression, wide-eyed and parted lips.

"Ah, up against a deadline, are you? Hhmm. Well, take a break everyone. This shouldn't take long. Back here in 10 minutes," Ryland says and the managers leave the room with sideways glances at Sue Ellen.

"Thank you Harris. I do appreciate this," Sue Ellen says as Ryland closes the conference room window blinds. She puts her little cooler on the table.

"I knew you'd come to your senses eventually, Sue Ellen. Some take longer than others."

Sue Ellen slowly walks to him, looking him over with a sultry expression. He licks his lips. She runs her finger down his tie and stops at his belt buckle, pulling it to her. Ryland's eyelids droop and he licks his lips again. "Harris, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over? I want us to be friends."

"Well isn't that nice Mrs. Ewing. I think that's easily done, don't you?"

Sue Ellen pulls his tie until his face is just inches from hers, his breath hot on her mouth. "You were so nice to bring me something when you visited my office so I've brought you something today," she says.

He parts his lips and she feels him rise against her. She lets go of his tie and turns to her cooler. She opens the lid, holds it high above and turns it upside down. A hundred ice cubes crash down on the glass conference table.

"What in the hell! You crazy bitch! What is this?" Ryland yells.

Sue Ellen pushes him down into his chair at the head of the table. She wets her lips and says, "I thought you might like some extra ice."

"Ice! I don't know what the hell you mean. You've lost your damn mind," Ryland says and starts to get up.

Sue Ellen pushes him back down and puts her face right in his. "That's right. Ice. You know, to cool things. For transport." Ryland's eyes narrow slightly. "Isn't that what you're doing lately? With those refrigeration trucks of yours?" There it is. Ryland's eye twitched slightly and his pupils dilated. Years of reading every inch of JR's face for traces of lies is paying off big today.

Sue Ellen leans in close again. "Maybe I don't know exactly why you bought all those refrigerated trucks. But I do know I'm barkin' up the right tree. I can smell it. And I'm just starting to cut my teeth on you, darlin'. Before long, I'll wipe the floor with you and lick my lips after, just like good barbecue." Sue Ellen gives him her Miss Texas smile. "I'm about to play you like a banjo, Harris. So you do what you want with that video of yours. And I'll do what I want with your mysterious cold trucks, all right?"

Ryland stands up. He straightens his tie and smiles at Sue Ellen. "Get the hell out of my office," he says and walks her out the conference room by the elbow.

"Well, deja vu!" Sue Ellen says and pulls the window blinds up as she walks through the door. The staff looks through the window at the melting ice all over the conference table. As they reach the double glass doors of Ryland's outer office suite, Sue Ellen twists her arm out of his grasp and slaps him hard on the ass. "Bye bye now!" she says as stunned employees look on.

Ryland's secretary Elizabeth stares at him in disbelief. He looks crestfallen, if only for an instant. A few employees continue peering into the conference room at the ice-covered table but most of the staff have scurried back to their cubicles to escape the wake of awkwardness Sue Ellen left behind.

Elizabeth hangs up the phone. "Maintenance is on their way to clean up that ice, Mr. Ryland."

"That woman's crazed and she's not be let in here again, understand?" Harris says. I feel sorry for her. I really do. Parading around pretending to be a serious candidate. An old loose-lipped drunk's all she is. Why she –"

"Actually she has some interesting ideas, Mr. Ryland," Elizabeth replies. I'm just saying – "

"Well don't just say. It's just the glossy paint on the junk car you're seeing right now. That polish will wear off real quick. Then you'll see. You'll see what's under that miserable bag of – " Harris stops himself short.

"I don't know about that, Mr. Ryland. Mrs. Ewing sounds like a pretty nice lady and I think she's serious about her candidacy. My sister's friend works for her campaign and she – "

"She busted in here and threw ice all over my goddamn conference table, is what she did. She's unstable. She's...never mind. Why in the hell are you even speaking on this? What do you know about anything beyond the nose on your face, gal? You're fired. Get the hell out of here."

###

Sue Ellen dries off her empty cooler and puts it in the car. She's tickled Ryland threw her out of his office just as she had done to him; confirmation her little stunt was on par with his shenanigans. As she's about to drive away, she sees the young lady who tried to stop her from bursting into the conference room. She appears to be crying.

Sue Ellen calls out, "Excuse me! Miss! Excuse me! Over here." The girl looks over and quickens her pace.

"Please! Miss, wait," Sue Ellen says. She walks to her but the girl waves her away.

"Mrs. Ewing, please, I don't want any more trouble," she says.

"No of course not, honey. Please, you're crying. Stop a moment, please. I'm afraid I'm the one causing the trouble here. Are you alright? What's happened?"

The girl reluctantly stops and sighs. She tries to compose herself. "I'm sorry. I just, I didn't expect this. I hope he changes his mind," she says.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" says Sue Ellen.

"Elizabeth but I'm called Ellie, Ellie Cruz."

Sue Ellen smiles at the fond memory of that name. "Ellie, what happened up there? What did Harris do?"

"He fired me, Mrs. Ewing," she chokes back a sob. "I can't believe it. I don't know… He was saying things about you and I, I just mentioned I liked some of your ideas. He got so angry – "

"Honey, do you by chance speak Spanish?" Sue Ellen says.

"Yes, fluently, why?"

Sue Ellen takes out her business card. "Come to my office 8:00 Monday morning. I need a translator for my campaign. You've got yourself a new job if you want it," Sue Ellen says.

"What? Really? You're kidding. Just like that?"

"Just like that, darlin'. Life's too short to spend time where you're not appreciated. Took me a long time to learn that. Ask for Susana on Monday," Sue Ellen says with a smile and turns to go.

The girl grabs her arm, "I know Susana! She's my sister's good friend."

"Well see there, you're among friends already. You take care now," Sue Ellen says.

Ellie does not let go of Sue Ellen's arm, "Mrs. Ewing, thank you so very much, you don't know – "

"I know I've made a good decision to bring you onboard, Ellie. I trust my instincts. Now if I can leave you with a bit of advice, you be careful who you allow to bring you to tears. Make sure they've earned your sorrow," Sue Ellen says. She pats Ellie's cheek and walks away.

Ellie dries her tears and stares after her. She feels like she's just spoken to a force of nature. The woman dumped a bucket of ice on her boss's desk, said who knows what to him and slapped him on the ass on her way out. She slapped Mr. Ryland on the ass like she owned him, Mr. Ryland. Good lord she's going to enjoy her new job.


	5. Book of Brilliant Things Chapter 5

Sue Ellen glances at the security camera in the elevator she rides up to her office. She realizes she is smiling widely and wonders if whoever is monitoring the video feed notices. She must look like she is up to something. She wants to tell the camera, "I just shamed the mighty Harris Ryland in his own office!" Sue Ellen thinks of the one person who would surely understand her excitement better than anyone. JR might even be proud of her for playing Ryland like she did this morning, just like he'd admired her for duping Mandy Winger so long ago.

As she rounds the corner to her office, she wonders how much to tell Mark about the confrontation but something stops her in her tracks. Her secretary Susana is signing for a delivery. The florist turns to go and Susana walks to Sue Ellen's office holding a giant white orchid. Sue Ellen swallows hard.

"Good morning everyone and happy Friday!" she says.

"Oh Mrs. Ewing, this orchid's just come for you. Isn't it amazing?" Susana places it on Sue Ellen's desk.

A perfect white orchid, her wedding flower. _What are you trying to do, JR?_ "Why yes, it's absolutely beautiful. Such an exquisite flower, isn't it?" Sue Ellen says.

"Wow that's quite an orchid. Secret admirer, Sue Ellen?" Aubrey asks. A few other staffers gather at Sue Ellen's door curious about the delivery.

Sue Ellen laughs. "No, I'm afraid not. It's probably from Dr. Marx in thanks for attending the health care meeting yesterday." Everyone but Aubrey goes back to their desks. "Well, let's find out," Sue Ellen says and opens the card. She smiles, "Yes, yes just as I thought. Well how very sweet of her to send this." Aubrey stands expressionless. Sue Ellen puts the card in her desk drawer. When she looks up, Aubrey is gone.

Mark sits frozen at his desk. It can't be a good sign if Sue Ellen doesn't come see him soon. Please let it have gone well for her with Ryland. Mark exhales loudly and wipes his hands on his pants. Damn sweaty palms. His brother's right; never rob a bank with Mark. Aubrey returns to her desk without so much as a sideways glance. Odd for someone who seems to watch his every move.

"Well good morning Mark," Sue Ellen says and closes Mark's office door behind her.

Aubrey picks up a piece of paper and casually walks back to Sue Ellen's office. She closes the door, opens the desk drawer and pulls the card out of its little envelop.

"Hello Sugar, you been on my mind since seeing you at the Cattle Baron's Ball. You looked beautiful as ever. It's been a long while since we've talked. Have dinner with me tonight? Tune in to 99.5 at noon before you say no."

Who is this from, Aubrey wonders and returns the card to the drawer.

"Oh, Aubrey, do you need something darlin'?" Sue Ellen asks as she opens the door.

Aubrey hands her the paper. "I just wanted to give you the latest print out of comments from Facebook for your rally in Fort Worth Sunday. I've highlighted the most notable ones you might want to prepare for."

"Wonderful. Thank you. I'll save my questions for the briefing this afternoon when everyone's present," Sue Ellen says and sits at her desk. She looks at her watch, it's 11:50 a.m.

Mark watches Aubrey return to her desk. What's different about her this morning? A few minutes later she does something out of character, turns on the radio. Sue Ellen does the same in her office.

After two songs the DJ on 99.5's morning show blasts a train whistle and says, "Okay folks! It's noon and you know what that means. Quitin' time for the morning shift here on your 99.5 The Wolf. We do thank you for wakin' up with the wolf today and here are your dedications in the noon hour to play us out. First up, the one and only Mr. JR Ewing dedicates Glen Campbell's "Forever Gentle on my Mind" to Sugar. JR says, "make an old man happy honey and have dinner with me." Oooh weee! Well now, we sure hope Sugar obliges you JR! Go get 'er cowboy!"

Sue Ellen turns the radio off halfway through Glen Campbell's song. She blinks back the tears that insist on rolling down her cheeks. All she ever wanted to be was gently on JR's mind. Why is he turning back the hands of time now? And why is she thinking about letting him?

* * *

"JR Ewing," he says as Sue Ellen's hand slightly shakes from dialing that familiar number for the first time in years.

"What is this nonsense JR? What are you up to?"

"Well hello Sugar! Do you like my flower? Did you hear my song?"

"Yes. Thank you, the orchid's lovely but there was no reason to do that, JR."

"Oh come on now. You always did love your flowers. I'm just bein' friendly, that's all. We haven't talked since I've been back from the rest home. Figure we should catch up, you know on John Ross and all. So I'll be by to collect you at 8:00, assuming we'll skip cocktail hour."

"JR I am not having dinner with you so – "

"Well why not honey? I got one boot in the bone yard by now. It's just ole' JR, nothing to be scared of."

"Please. I am not scared of you JR. Listen to yourself – "

"Alright then! Eight o'clock it is."

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be busy tonight, hmm? That's right. I am busy tonight and every night for the rest of my life…" Sue Ellen pauses at that notion. _The rest of her life._ JR has a right to know; they share a son.

"Listen here Sue Ellen. I checked out of life for nearly seven years up in that home, my mind wrapped around itself in ways I don't really understand. Now I'm sorry about that, I'm sorry I haven't been around for John Ross lately. Even a grown man needs his daddy from time to time. But I'm back now and I want to know how's things with our son. And you're the one's gonna tell me. Over dinner. Is that clear?"

"Fine. I see you're well enough to give orders. Tomorrow night then. And I'll meet you there," Sue Ellen says.

"Well that's better. Omni Hotel steak house. Eight o'clock." JR hangs up.

Looks like she's going to get that steak after all, albeit not with the John Ross she expected.

* * *

"Let's start the round table now that we've covered my talking points," Sue Ellen says to her campaign staff assembled for the Fort Worth rally briefing.

"I'll start," says Mark, catching Aubrey off-guard. "Great news. I just got confirmation from Channel Eight that they're sending a reporter Sunday."

"Wonderful!" Sue Ellen says. "Finally some TV coverage for the little lady, as some opponents like to call me. They'll say my proper name soon enough. You can count on it."

"Television coverage is a new element for your campaign, Mrs. Ewing. Have you thought about how that effects your Q and A sessions with the public? All we need is one network taking a comment out of context and playing it endlessly until the damage is done. I really think you should move towards scripted rallies, maybe even consider hiring a speech writer," Mark says.

"I appreciate your advice, Mark, but I disagree. My slogan is 'honesty for a change' and I intend to honor it. Honesty should not be selective. You're either honest or not. And as I see it, those I owe honesty to the most are the voters and that's what they'll get from me. No scripts. No red light question list for the press. Anything's fair game. I mean it."

"Mrs. Ewing, no disrespect but no one has ever been elected that way," Mark says.

"Well let me be the first then. Texans appreciate honesty and they know when they're being lied to or patronized. They'll be the first to call a bluff before the press even has a crack at it. No, I want to do this my way. And I'm not hiring anyone to write words for me either."

"Yes ma'am, well I do admire you for it. Can't say you're like any politician I've ever met," Mark says. He feels like applauding, even though Mrs. Ewing will surely lose with that approach.

True, some things are more important than winning, except where Harris Ryland is concerned. Mark was absolutely elated when Sue Ellen told him how Ryland reacted when she confronted him with the cold truck information, _his information._ He'd done that. He had helped her slay the dragon. Even better, she told him to continue researching Ryland's activities. He could practically feel his confidence percolating; he felt like a new man.

* * *

"You're sure?" Harris Ryland says into the phone. "I didn't expect he'd come sniffing around so soon. My, my, my, I couldn't have timed it better myself."

He ends the call and makes another, thin lips spread tight in a sinister smile. "It's me. Listen, things have aligned rather perfectly today and I want you to do the stop tomorrow night.…..Yes, same as discussed…This will be big if you do it right, no mistakes. I want it tied up nicely, understand? No loose ends. And I don't think I need to remind you of the unpleasant consequences if you change your mind…She's dining at the Omni Hotel steak house tomorrow night, 8 p.m, and she'll be driving alone..…the silver Porsche in the picture I showed you….Stop talking. You don't need to know that. I don't pay you to ask questions…..Shut up. Nothing you have to say matters until you get this done. Don't screw it up," Harris hisses into the phone and hangs up.

* * *

Sue Ellen arrives home at dusk on this balmy Friday evening. After feeding the dogs she sifts through her mail. There are no blue envelops from the women's shelter today, but another one makes her heart skip a little. She takes the letter to the atrium and sits down. Good news or bad, she'd like to be looking at the sunset for either. Watching the sun rise and set has given her comfort in these recent years. The glowing orange globe moves like clockwork and gives her a calming sense of order. In some ways her life is more chaotic than ever; her health unpredictable, her son's affection unreliable, her career uncertain. And still the sun rises. There's a bigger picture here, Sue Ellen reminds herself. And with that she takes a deep breath and opens the envelop from the medical lab.

"Dear Sue Ellen Ewing:

The results from your Lymphocite Subsets and quarterly Viral Load blood tests are complete. We are pleased to inform you that your CD4+ and CD8+ cell counts are within acceptable range, and your viral load is undetectable. Please refer to the tables below for exact counts. As you may realize, an undetectable viral load does not mean your HIV is gone, but rather the infectious cells are too few to detect at this time. As an HIV patient, it is important that you keep your regularly scheduled blood test appointments throughout the year and continue adhering to your prescribed treatment regimen. Thank you for choosing our lab for your medical needs. A copy of these results have been sent to your physician of record."

Sue Ellen exhales and holds the letter to her chest as if to hug it. Another bullet dodged. She can push this worry a little further back in her mind until the next test four months from now. Four whole months! She gives her dogs extra pats and kisses on her way upstairs to get her book.

Sue Ellen opens this year's leather-bound journal and flips through some pages. She runs her fingers down the lists of things she is grateful for, simple happenings but grand occasions with her adjusted perspective:

⁃ Bowie and Crockett greeting me at the door  
⁃ John Ross asking me to bring him home to Southfork from the hospital  
⁃ Ruby sending Paul over with home cooked meals  
⁃ Mark trusting me with doubts about Aubrey  
⁃ Serenade of crickets in the evening  
⁃ 7,421st day of sobriety

She writes today's entries:

⁃ Stood up to Harris Ryland  
⁃ Hired Ellie whom Harris fired  
⁃ Another good blood test result  
⁃ 7,422nd day of sobriety

She hesitates at the next line. _Should I include it?_ She sighs. _Why am I acting like it's not special when it was. There's no one to fool here._

⁃ 'Beautiful white orchid from JR,' she writes. _There. I admit it. Don't you play me at dinner tomorrow night and make me regret it, JR._

Sue Ellen rereads today's list. It's certainly a good one. Yes, this is her book of brilliant things. This collecting of events helps her feel hopeful for the future and content with the past. She closes the journal and places it on the shelf with 10 others, one for each year post diagnosis. She considers the contrast of these journals with the diaries she kept about JR and the movie she made about their marriage so long ago. He'd been the center of her world back then, the heart of her albeit contentious home. _Well you're only allowed on the porch now, JR, and not a step further._


	6. Ruby Slippers Chapter 6

After mentally banishing JR to the outskirts of her life, Sue Ellen puts her journal back on the shelf and walks to the kitchen. She hardly ate anything all day and is famished. She sees her neighbor Ruby's lights glowing from the large bay window in the kitchen. Sue Ellen wonders what Ruby has made for dinner tonight. Her delicious home cooking would be a wonderful way to end this eventful Friday. She did promise Ruby a visit this weekend.

Just then, Ruby's butler Paul Two appears in their kitchen window. He is busy preparing dinner. He sees Sue Ellen's light on, looks over and waves. She smiles and waves back. Paul says something to Ruby, who is out of sight. He then holds up a plate and motions Sue Ellen over. Why not, she thinks. She can almost smell the perfectly braised beef and visiting with Ruby is always entertaining. A break from campaigning, blood tests and wicked blackmailing men is in order, Sue Ellen decides. She nods at Paul Two, grabs her keys and walks over, locking the door behind her.

* * *

The story of how Ruby Monroe came to Dallas tells like a modern day western. With 73 years behind her and the open road in front, Ruby placed $800,000 in pink leather bags in the trunk of her white Cadillac Seville, left her family compound in Beaumont, Texas, at precisely 6 a.m., drove straight up highway 45 to Dallas, pulled up to 18 Lark Lane, called the realtor on the sign and said, "I am Miss Ruby Monroe of Beaumont". Upon no response from the busy realtor, she began once more with, "I am Miss Ruby Monroe of the Spindletop Monroes. And I am waitin' here to buy this home. Cash offer. And no phone calls to any of my sons who will surely try to fetch me and this fraction of their inheritance before said transaction is done. Get over here boy or I shall call the name on the sign in the yard of the house across the street. Commission's yours to lose. It's all the same to me."

And with that, Ruby Monroe moved to Dallas, leaving her scheming children and grandchildren to drool over the family fortune from afar. True to form, her eldest son did appear on Ruby's porch within the week, intent on bringing his mother and more importantly, the executor of his trust, back to Beaumont and the family's watchful eye. Ruby had other plans. She refused to open her door for him and instead fired two warning shots into the air from her pistol while standing on the balcony overhead. After ducking for cover and yelling a stream of obscenities at his mother, he threatened she'd never see him again and left. Problem solved.

Here, with no one to bother her, is where she really started to do God's work. And as Ruby will tell you, God's work is not for the meek or mild. As she quotes from Romans 12:11, "Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord." And Ruby Monroe is nothing if not zealous.

* * *

Paul Two greets Sue Ellen with a warm smile after she rings the door bell that chimes the chorus of "The Yellow Rose of Texas". She loves ringing that bell.

"Good evenin' Paul. How are you doin' tonight?"

"Oh real fine, Mrs. Ewing! Please come in. Miss Ruby is pleased you've come for dinner. She's waiting for you in the parlor," Paul says. 'I thank you for visiting as well. Miss Ruby is a bit ornery today." He winks at Sue Ellen.

_"Today?"_ Sue Ellen replies and they share a knowing look.

Paul smiles and shakes his head. "She won't take her calcium pill. Maybe you can make her do it, Mrs Ewing. It's im-por-tant, you know, for da bones," Paul says in Jamaican cadence.

Sue Ellen laughs. "Well I'll see what I can do, Paul. But you know, I think Ruby's bones are too stubborn to break anyhow."

"Ah true that, Mrs Ewing!" Paul shakes his head and returns to the kitchen.

Sue Ellen inhales the wonderful aroma of dinner as she walks to Ruby's parlor. She parts the red beaded curtain and enters the room, feeling like she's about to see a fortune teller. Sue Ellen wonders if it's the beads, Ruby herself or both that give her that feeling. Ruby sits in a grand black leather chair, her feet in red velvet slippers perched on a matching ottoman. The dark upholstery contrasts with her platinum hair teased high above her head. She holds a near-empty glass of bourbon in one hand and binoculars in the other.

The spy glasses are trained on the house across the street. Ruby sits still as a cat stalking a mouse and stares through the lens pointing out her parlor window. Sue Ellen turns on a light, disrupting Ruby's surveillance.

"Sue Ellen! You've gone and blown my cover," Ruby says.

"Now Miss Ruby it's not polite to spy on your neighbors. Are you doin' that to me as well?" Sue Ellen asks.

Ruby rolls her big blue eyes. "Please, gal. You ain't nearly as interesting as that young man in that corner room of his. Somethin's not right over there. I can't place no finger on it yet but you mark my words, somethin' unclean is goin' on in that house. Yes sir. You can bet on it."

Sue Ellen takes the binoculars out of Ruby's hand and sets them on the end table next to a glass of water and what looks to be the refused calcium pill. "Miss Ruby why do you bother yourself with the neighbors' business? Especially when you're neglecting your own care taking," Sue Ellen says and motions to the pill. "Now why don't you just take this calcium pill and be done with it?"

"Hhhmm. Seems someone's been flappin' their mouth about private things," Ruby says. "TWO! Get in here boy!" she yells and fervently rings a little bell by her side.

Sue Ellen's eyes widen, "No, Miss Ruby, please don't. Paul was just concerned, that's all - "

Paul Two appears in his apron at the parlor door, wringing a dish towel nervously, "Yes, ma'am? Is something wrong?"

"What business is it of anyone's if I take this damn pill or not? Huh? Lemme tell you, NO ONE'S, that's who."

"Miss Ruby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean no disrespect - "

Ruby interrupts Paul, "And you say I won't take it, huh? Well look here!" she says and swallows the pill with water. Ruby empties the small glass and hurls it at Paul Two. It lands near his feet on the thick rug with a thud. "You keep my business to yourself, boy. And you remember the rules of my house or you'll find yourself back in Gee-Maica, you hear?"

"Yes. Yes Ma'am. I apologize, to you and to Mrs. Ewing," Paul says. He picks up the glass and walks away.

Sue Ellen is so mortified she cannot muster a response. All this fuss over a calcium pill? She looks at Ruby who is refilling a glass with bourbon. Is she drunk? Doesn't seem so. But then again Ruby is old Texas and old money and proof that this kind of class warfare behavior still exists. Sue Ellen wonders for an instant if she ever was so rude to the Southfork help years ago.

"Miss Ruby, was that really necessary? Paul was just trying to help. He wasn't being a gossip. He cares about your well-being."

"Sue Ellen, you're sharp gal but you're losin' your edge in your old age. No matter how big he smiles he'd shank me in a minute if he thought he could get away with it because I got the money and he don't. Two is the help. He ain't no friend nor family member and he don't care about nothin' but his paycheck, which is plenty big by the way. I pay my help well to do their jobs well, not to spread my business around. And that's that."

"Well how you handle your affairs is your business, but it seemed harsh to me is all. And why do you call him 'Two' anyhow?" Sue Ellen says.

Ruby sighs, "I like the name Paul. He's my favorite apostle. I've called each of my butlers Paul and this one here's the second. Paul Two. There you have it."

"Paul is not his real name? Do you even know what it is?" Sue Ellen asks, incredulous.

Paul Two appears timidly in the doorway, "Excuse me, but dinner is served."

* * *

Ruby and Sue Ellen sit down to a feast. Although Sue Ellen's appetite was damaged by the awkwardness earlier, she cannot resist the delicious spread before her. She and Ruby ease into conversation once more. A few moments into the meal, Ruby dismisses Paul Two for the evening.

He leaves the main house and heads to his quarters through the entrance off the kitchen. He changes into dark clothing and with one more look through the window at the ladies eating in the dining room, walks quickly next door to Sue Ellen's home. He lets himself in with a key, turns off the security alarm and walks quietly to the atrium in the darkness. Sue Ellen's dogs, Bowie and Crockett, come bounding toward him, eager for the treats they have come to expect. Paul Two offers them two small steaks on wax paper which he tapes to the atrium's marble floor. As the dogs eat, he removes Sue Ellen's journal, goes into the bathroom on the other side of the house, turns on the light and reads it.

As Sue Ellen and Ruby dine at the table nearly an hour passes and the tension from the conflict with Paul Two fades along with it. Ruby is in rare form, dishing out predictions and warnings of the sort Sue Ellen has come to expect and even fancy. More often than not, Ruby sounds like she's speaking at a pulpit from decades past, metaphors and biblical scripture pouring forth in riddles and strange fables. But sometimes she is as accurate as an oracle and spooks Sue Ellen to the core.

Suddenly Ruby puts down her coffee cup and grabs Sue Ellen's hand. Ruby holds the palm to her left cheek and closes her eyes for just a moment. Her eyeballs dart back and forth behind her lids. When she opens them her eyes are turquoise blue and Sue Ellen gasps at the intense color. Ruby places Sue Ellen's hand palm up on the table, pours a small bit of salt from the shaker on it and slowly makes a cross in the grainy white mound. Sue Ellen sits rigid, mouth open and eyes wide. Has Ruby lost it? She's never done this before. Sue Ellen starts to speak but Ruby holds a finger to her mouth for silence. She stands up, walks around to Sue Ellen's other side and facing east blows the salt off her hand in one breath.

Sue Ellen clutches her hand to her chest, "Ruby! What on earth - "

"You got a whole lotta dread drippin' off you, Sue Ellen. Worry and unrest thick as mud. I can see it."

Sue Ellen laughs nervously. "Oh is that right? And you can see this how? I don't see a crystal ball, Ruby."

"I got two crystal balls right here in front of me, your eyes honey. Them eyes tell me more than your mouth do every time," Ruby says. Sue Ellen looks away.

"Now you listen here, Sue Ellen. And I'm not playin' with you. I got a vision just now right here at this very table. Hooo!" Ruby fans herself. "I tell you this is the Lord's house! Yes it is. He is truly using me and I am most willing to be a vessel. Lord, fill me up, fill me with the holy spirit," Ruby looks upward and crosses herself. "Someone's a comin' for you Sue Ellen and he means you ill will. You best look behind yourself often. This one moves under cover of righteousness but righteous he is not. A dark knight in a chariot, wicked but foolish. He is only the tail of the serpent, goes where he's lead. But you pull the tail and the head turns 'round. You remember that honey."

Sue Ellen's expression changes from alarmed to amused. "Well, Miss Ruby. I must say you are indeed spot on and I will heed your warning when I have dinner with the serpent's tail tomorrow night. And trust me, I won't be pulling on anything of his so we won't have to worry about waking the beast. I'm havin' dinner with JR," Sue Ellen says and winks.

"JR Ewing! Ha!" Ruby laughs hard and shakes her head. "Oh no honey, JR's a white hat in this here story. Naw, I didn't do no salt spell for protection from old JR Ewing. He ain't your trouble. Hell he ain't even on the grid no more when it comes to you Sue Ellen."

"What's that supposed to mean? What grid?" Sue Ellen says.

"Huh. Well look at this. I didn't take you for havin' regrets about him this far on down the road. You hide that damn well, honey," Ruby says. "No need to get defensive. It is what it is. He just don't come up on my mind picture when I think on you, that's all."

"I most certainly do not have regrets about JR, Miss Ruby. He doesn't even cross my mind anymore. We, well, he just wants to catch up on John Ross is all. We do share a son, you know. I can't just erase him, can I? He wants to be part of John Ross's life and John Ross is part of mine so - " Sue Ellen looks down at her hands. She instinctively touches the finger on her left hand where JR's big beautiful ring used to be.

"Aw honey. I don't mean to cause you no sorrow," Ruby says. Sue Ellen is embarrassed to feel tears welling up in her eyes. Ruby pretends something has caught her attention at the window and walks over so Sue Ellen can collect herself. While gazing outside Ruby says, "Let me tell you this Sue Ellen, you can't change the past like that fool girl in the Wizard of Oz picture. Can't click no magic slippers and go back in time. So take the lessons the past gave you and move on. And don't let that spoilt son of yours hold you hostage to your mistakes, neither. 'Specially when you're tryin' to do right by him."

Sue Ellen musters a slight smile. "John Ross is a good boy, Ruby. And he's a fine son. He's a young man busy with his life. There's nothin' wrong with that. He checks in with me when he can," Sue Ellen says. Ruby keeps quiet. She pats Sue Ellen's shoulder on her way back to the table.

Sue Ellen feels raw, splayed open. She just came here for some company and good food, not have her heart peeled like an onion. She sighs. Maybe she needed to hear these things. Who knows. All she knows right now is she's had enough of Ruby's preaching for one day and it's time to go home.

Sue Ellen leaves Ruby's house through the kitchen entrance. As she walks toward the door in the gate that separates their properties, she sees Paul Two smoking a cigarette on his little porch of the back house. She walks over, stops at his railing and clears her throat.

"Paul, I'm so sorry about earlier."

He puts out his cigarette in a Coke can. "Oh it's alright Mrs. Ewing. Please, don't trouble yourself about it. I know Miss Ruby didn't mean me no harm," he says.

"Well. You were just trying to look after her and I went and got you in trouble. I just wanted to say I'm sorry about that, Paul. I really am."

Paul waves his hand in the air and smiles at Sue Ellen. "You're a nice lady, Mrs. Ewing. A lot of people wouldn't give this no second thought, you know? Especially for someone like me - the help."

Sue Ellen makes a pained expression and wrings her hands at the way Paul says 'the help'. "Everyone deserves to be treated respectfully, Paul, no matter their station in life. I think you're a very capable young man and Ruby's lucky to have you around. I hope she'll realize it before you've had enough of her," Sue Ellen says.

Paul laughs softly.

Sue Ellen continues, "Believe it or not, I know what it feels like to be looked down on and I don't wish that feeling on anyone."

Paul looks at her with disbelief, "Thank you Mrs. Ewing. Thank you for your kind words. And no disrespect, ma'am, but to be looked down on, you have to be seen and people like me, we're invisible." Paul stands up. "Good night Mrs. Ewing," he says and goes inside.

Sue Ellen stands in the dark at the foot of his porch, steeping in his words. She turns and looks at the back of Ruby's grand estate gone dark aside from the light above the kitchen entrance. It illuminates a hand-painted sign hanging over the red kitchen door, "God sees all, big and small".

* * *

Sue Ellen kicks off her heels the moment she walks into her foyer. The marble floor chills her bare feet. She walks to the atrium just as her dogs come to her, tails wagging. She pets Bowie first and Crockett responds by licking her foot.

"Yuck! Crockett stop that, silly boy. You that hungry even feet are appealing? Come on boys! I'm late feeding you, I know," she says and starts toward the kitchen. _Well what's that?_ Sue Ellen lifts her left foot and looks at the bottom of it but it is bare. She felt something under it. She looks at the floor and sees a dull streak on the white marble. She bends down and looks closer. There is a short piece of scotch tape on the floor. _How did that get there?_ She peels it off and holds it to the light. Hhmm. She assumes it must have been stuck to her shoe. She crumples it and throws it away.

She fills the dogs' bowls with food and brews a pot of tea. The dogs do not touch their dinner.

* * *

"Hello, Mark? I know this is last minute, but I need your help," Sue Ellen says into her cell phone.

"Oh hi Mrs. Ewing, could you hold just a moment please?" Mark says amidst loud cheers and music. He resumes speaking after Sue Ellen hears a car door close. "There we go. Okay you were saying?" he asks.

"Out on the town, Mark? Am I interupting a date?"

"No, no. I'm out with my brother Boone. Lucy's charged him to me for the evening."

"Oh that's right. Lucy's ladies' night. You did mention that. Well I won't keep you, but isn't it true that Dallas-Fort Worth has a lot of hospitality workers? And a pretty big union? I think I read that on the community profile in my rally brief."

"You mean like the hotel industry, housekeeping staff and such? Yes, that's right. In fact janitors from one Local have been striking for over a month. I heard it on the radio this morning."

"What are they trying to get?" asks Sue Ellen.

"Well better insurance for one thing. The reporter said they're striking against contractors' health care cuts. And I'm sure there's a wage issue too," Mark says.

"Mark I want you to extend a personal invitation to the hospitality workers' union to attend my rally Sunday. Could you contact them first thing tomorrow?"

"Okay, but, uh, I'm not sure I follow. Generally speaking, that demographic doesn't carry a whole lot of voting power in Texas. Many of them are illegals, Mrs. Ewing. They're happy they got a job with who knows what kind of paperwork. They want to stay below the radar and think voting is a risky process. Plus they may not even understand you."

"You're right, call Susana and see if she can translate. I'll pay her overtime. And if she can't, ask her to see if her friend Ellie can. I just hired her as a translator today."

"You hired _who?_ Have you vetted this person - "

"Never mind that on this one, Mark. She's fine, trust me. She was Harris' secretary and he fired her for complimenting my campaign. That's good enough for me."

"Harris Ryland's secretary is coming to work for you? Does he know?"

"I don't know and I don't care. Listen Mark, just please invite the union members to attend the rally. I experienced somethin' today and I need to reach out to these people. And I need them to understand what I'm saying so please get me a translator alright?"

"Sure, okay, I'm on it Mrs. Ewing. I'll confirm with you as soon as I've got the status."

"Thank you honey, you're the best. You always come through for me. Bye bye now."

Mark smiles at the term of endearment. Mrs. Ewing's never called him 'honey' before. He considers leaving Boone at the bar to get started on this right away. Just then Boone erupts from the bar door with a red headed girl on his back. She's wearing his hat and he's galloping like a horse through the parking lot, yelling "Yeeehaaaw!". That answers that question. "Boone! Get over here! Unless you want me to call Lucy to come fetch you? You know, your WIFE?"

* * *

Sue Ellen's exhausted. She and the dogs head upstairs for bed. She undresses and sits on the side of her bed, looking out the balcony glass door at the full moon. Bowie nudges her leg as if to say 'enough for today'. She ticks off the day's events - standing up to Ryland, hiring Ellie, the white orchid and song from JR, Ruby's 'vision', the incident with Paul and his profound words after. Sometimes Sue Ellen feels like she is a million miles away from the life she expected to lead. She looks down at her slippers and thinks of Ruby's comment on The Wizard of Oz earlier. Just for good measure, she clicks her heels together three times. Nothing. She's not transported back to Southfork waiting up all night for JR to come home. And she's glad of it.


	7. Lingua Franca Chapter 7

_*Thanks ever so much for all the thoughtful reviews, everyone! Such a thrill to learn what readers feel and think about my words. Appreciate you taking the time.*_

* * *

Sue Ellen slaps her alarm clock off and rolls over, pulling the covers up to her neck. The sun slices through the white shutters over the French doors of the balcony. She closes her eyes and sighs. If she gets up, the day will begin. And it will soon roll into the night and put her squarely across the dinner table from JR Ewing. What is this feeling? Anxiety? She rolls her eyes and tells herself it's the talk she must have with JR making her anxious and nothing else. After all, embers don't smolder _this_ long.

After a light breakfast Sue Ellen heads for the shooting range. Nothing like a little target practice to calm and center the mind. She muses it's a good thing she took up the skill in recent years and not while married to JR. He'd surely be dead if it had been otherwise. Those shots she fired at him years ago would have nailed him right in the kill zone judging from her acquired ability. She realizes she is smiling.

She turns into the shooting range parking lot with a little too much torque and her Porsche slides a few feet across the gravel, kicking up a dust cloud. Two young cowboys talking at a nearby pick up truck look over. Sue Ellen emerges wearing tight blue jeans set on her hips, a dark green turtle neck, a short carmel-colored rawhide vest, a big silver belt buckle in the shape of Texas with turquoise inlay and brown leather cowboy boots with a fringe from shaft to heel.

The cowboys smile and tip their hats. "How do, ma'am?" says one. "Good mornin'" says the other.

Sue Ellen nods and smiles. She enters the indoor range with a bounce in her step and a sway to her stride. There's still nothing like a little admiration from the gentlemen, no sir. She checks in at the counter and heads to the locker room to prepare her weapon, store her purse and don her protection gear.

Sue Ellen is assigned lane number 13. Between this and Ruby's vision of impending doom last night, it's a good thing Sue Ellen is not superstitious. She loads her handgun and runs her fingers over the beautiful mother of pearl on the handle. Fascinating how something so lovely can be so dangerous when need be. _Kind of like me,_ Sue Ellen thinks.

* * *

Harris Ryland sits in his big black leather chair staring at the orange flames licking the fireplace screen. His study is darkening in the late afternoon shade but he does not turn on a light. The fire's glow relaxes him, entrances him. And he needs to relax. This is an exciting day. There is something so delightful about knowing what's to come when no one else does. Well, nearly no one else.

Harris wonders if he should call the man one last time to squeeze any drops of doubt out of him. Delicate balance here; swing the hammer too hard and his accomplice could crack under pressure, and then what? He can't miss this opportunity - Sue Ellen out for dinner the night before a big campaign rally, with JR Ewing no less. All of Dallas knows of their tempestuous history, her alcoholism, her arrests and other dramatics. The stars are perfectly aligned.

Harris opts for a text message instead, seems less threatening. He smirks as he taps the keys on a disposable cell phone, "Just a reminder to stick to the script no matter what. Do that and you have nothing to worry about. Screw up and kiss your wife goodbye before she gets deported." Harris presses 'send' and snaps the phone closed. He chuckles and rubs his hands together like a mad scientist.

Something catches his eye on the drape. A butterfly has flown in through the open window and rests on the curtain, slowly stretching its wings open and closed. Harris carefully walks over and picks it off the drape by the wings. He pulls one wing off and throws the butterfly into the fire. It makes a little pop and hiss sound burning in the flames. Still, the butterfly furiously flaps its one wing trying to escape. It sputters about for a few seconds and then lays still, curling into ash. See that? Everything fights to the death to survive. The trick is to say on the offensive. Once you're defending you have already lost control.

Harris inhales deeply. He feels invigorated. It's only half past three. Plenty of time before he needs to turn his attention elsewhere. He makes a call.

"It's Harris."

"Hello Mr. Ryland. Pleasure to hear from you again."

"Send me a girl."

"Would you like her dispatched to your home?"

"No. I'll be in my suite at the Four Seasons in 20 minutes."

"Certainly. What are you in the mood for today, sir?"

"Ah, a blonde…or brunette, I suppose it doesn't really matter. But I want thin, tall, beautiful smile, porcelain skin. Like Annie. You remember my Annie, don't you?"

"Of course. Of course I do, Mr. Ryland. She was among our very best, with all due respect. Well, sir, I'm sending Maya to you this afternoon. I think you'll be quite pleased. And as always, full satisfaction guaranteed. Enjoy, Mr. Ryland."

* * *

"Mrs. Ewing, how nice to see you again," says the personal shopper at Saks Fifth Avenue.

"Thank you, darlin'. I appreciate you squeezing me in this afternoon," Sue Ellen says.

"Not at all. I'm always available to you, Mrs. Ewing. Now what are we looking for today?"

"Well, I have an, uh, event this evenin' that I'd like an outfit for. Something…classy but striking. Maybe black or beige, no red. I think red would be overstated in this instance."

The girl nods her head. "I see. Do you prefer a dress or a pantsuit? Or perhaps a skirt and jacket?" As she speaks she pours Sue Ellen a cup of coffee and sets it next to the little tray of pink and green macaroons imported from France.

"I think a dress. This isn't exactly business, but, well let's just say I'd like to be fashionable without implication, if you know what I mean," Sue Ellen says and winks.

"Absolutely. I'll put you in a dress that turns heads but keeps them at a distance. They'll know your claws will come out if they come too close," the girl says with a smile.

"Just how do you get inside my head so well, honey?" Sue Ellen asks and bites into a pink macaroon. As the girl leaves to gather her wares, Sue Ellen catches a glance of herself in one of the mirrors. Here she sits in the stylish white leather wingback chair all alone, nibbling on cookies and sipping coffee. She thinks back to all those shopping trips with Pamela when the store ladies would show them the latest designer collections in the fitting rooms as they, well rather she, would inhale glasses of champaign, giddy to spend as much of JR's money as possible. Her life is so different now. Is she happier? Of course she is. Isn't she?

Within 10 minutes the girl returns rolling a clothing rack from which five pieces hang. Sue Ellen wipes her hands free of macaroon crumbs, careful to clear any sugary residue from her manicured burgundy nails.

"Here we are, Mrs. Ewing. Let's start here with this black Michael Kors leather dress. Quite stunning, don't you think?"

"Oh it's beautiful. Just lovely. But I'd like to try this one first," Sue Ellen says and takes an aubergine dress off the rack.

"Of course. Yes of course. That's a gorgeous Chanel, blending a layered silk skirt with suede and leather bodice. Funny, I brought that one along by chance. I've never dressed you in this color before."

Sue Ellen holds the dress in front of her at the mirror. "It's a pretty color. Unusual. Warm but…" Sue Ellen trails off.

"Perhaps a little foreboding?" the girl offers.

"Yes. Yes exactly. Excuse me while I try it on," Sue Ellen says as she enters the fitting room. She hangs the dress and holds its long brushed suede sleeves out. They feel comforting, soft and pliable but fitted. She undresses and steps into the Chanel, pulling it up and around herself. Fits like a glove. The silk skirt hugs her hips in the most flattering way, leaving the slightly fluted hem to sway in layers around her knees. A slit in front offers peeks at her legs, still amazing if she does say so herself. The eggplant leather bodice is fitted and a bit lower cut than she'd wanted, but the whole effect is simply stunning in an elegant way. Mission accomplished.

Sue Ellen steps out and the girl gasps. "Oh. Goodness Mrs. Ewing, that dress was made for you. I hope whomever you're seeing this evening has a strong heart. This here's what we call heart attack on a hanger."

Sue Ellen laughs. "Needless to say, I'll take it. Thank you honey, it's perfect."

"Wonderful. Now will you be needing shoes or a handbag for the outfit?"

"No, I have everything I need. Thank you."

"Uh, Mrs. Ewing, if I may. I suggest changing your nail color. The burgundy clashes a bit. I recommend a matte black. It's a newer trend but I think it would compliment the aubergine tones so very well. I can make an appointment for you right now. I'm sure they will get you right in."

Sue Ellen pauses. Black nails? Hell, why not. JR once called her a black widow. Not that she paid it any mind.

* * *

With every nail the manicurist covers in matte black polish Sue Ellen feels more fierce and well, downright dangerous by the tenth finger. Funny how nail and lip color can influence a woman's mood. Her cell phone buzzes on the table next to her left hand. The screen reads "JR Ewing". Wet nails prevent her from answering and the phone seems to buzz so insistently. The manicurist's eyes dart over the top of her face mask and catch the name. They widen a bit and look back and forth from Sue Ellen's face to the buzzing phone. Finally it goes silent. Sue Ellen smiles tightly. Damn that man if he is calling dinner off after she's gone to all this trouble. She'll feel a fool for doing so.

The manicurist turns on the infrared lamp and Sue Ellen settles in for the five-minute dry time. There is a voice mail icon on her phone screen. She sighs and starts thinking of good responses to JR's cancellation. Should she act like she's relieved, like she wanted to make other plans anyway? Should she be angry? No. She'll pretend she'd forgotten about the dinner all together. A little 'out of sight, out of mind' treatment ought to rattle JR's cage some. Perfect.

Sue Ellen gets up and carefully gathers her purse and phone. She waves goodbye to the manicurist and scurries out the door to her Porsche parked in the lot near the salon entrance. She gets in, turns on the air conditioner and dials voice mail.

"Well hello Sugar, you're out and about are you? I hope you haven't lost your nerve for our little date this evenin'. Just checking in to make sure you aren't gonna stand me up tonight. Can't have ole JR sittin' by himself at the table for all the world to see." JR laughs. "Alright now, darlin'. You make sure I see you later. Bye bye."

Sue Ellen giggles and immediately scolds herself for doing so. Ah but that voice, that laugh of his. That commanding demeanor. He's her kryptonite, clearly. But she's ready for him now. She's decades away from that naive little beauty pageant girl, the one JR chewed up and spat out on a daily basis. There. She's back in the right frame of mind now. She calls him back.

"Yeah?"

"JR, it's Sue Ellen."

"Well 'course it is honey, I'd recognize your voice anywhere. Music to my ears. Hahaha. So your nerves get the better of you? You backin' out on me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I have nothin' to be afraid of. Who do you think you are? Clyde Barrow?"

"That's right. And you're my Bonnie, aren't you? Bonnie and Clyde. JR and Sue Ellen take Dallas again. Right as rain. Don't fight it honey."

"Stop it, JR. You're a silly old man. And don't flatter yourself. This is not a date. We're meeting to catch up on John Ross. That's all. Understand?"

"My, my. Listen to you, layin' down the law. Well alright honey. Whatever you say. But don't keep me waitin' tonight. No telling what this silly old man might do. Fair warning." Sue Ellen can almost see him tipping his hat.

"Well that's funny, isn't it? _Me_ keeping _you_ waiting? The tables sure have turned, haven't they JR?"

"Oh come on now Sugar. Let's not get into that garbage. Water under the bridge by now. You're all grown up. Running for governor. I know you don't give me a second thought these days. Let's just be adults about this and put all our little issues aside for John Ross now, shall we?"

Sue Ellen bites her lip.

"Sue Ellen? You there?"

"Yes. Yes I'm here. I'll see you at 8:00," Sue Ellen says and hangs up.

Moments later her phone rings again. That JR just doesn't know when to quit.

"JR, just give it a rest until tonight, alright?" Sue Ellen says.

"Uh, no, it's Mark Mrs. Ewing."

"Mark? Hello! I'm sorry. I was just, uh, well never mind. How you doin' Mark?"

"Fine. Fine thank you. I'm just calling to tell you I did extend personal invitations to your Fort Worth rally to the three largest unions in the area, all representing the service and hospitality industries. I tell you, Mrs. Ewing, I don't know if any members will attend. The union reps were surprised to hear from me, to say the least. And even a little suspicious of the phone call, if you ask me."

"Well that's understandable, it is last minute. All we can do is try. Make sure the chuck wagon is stocked to the brim with food on Sunday. And let's get some of that delicious Mexican pork. What's it called?"

"Carnitas?"

"Yes. Some of that along with the barbecued beef and beans. If these people come out on their Sunday to hear what I have to say, the least we can do is feed them good."

"Okay, will do. But Mrs. Ewing? Are you ever gonna tell me why it's so important to have these people here? I'd like to know, if you don't mind."

"Mark, I can't really explain it aside to say I want them to know I see them. I see these hard working people and I am their candidate too. I don't want them to feel invisible. That's the worst feeling in the world, you know. Feeling ignored.


	8. Chapter 8

_*Thrilled with the reviews, thanks very much! Isabel, so pleased the line about being invisible caught your attention. You must know Sue Ellen well :)_

* * *

The man sits low in the car, watching Sue Ellen's silver Porsche pull into the valet parking lane at the Omni Hotel. It's 8:10 p.m. The parking attendant opens her door and she glides out, a dreamy cloud of purplish hues. There sure is something about the way that woman moves. He can see her big sparkly smile all the way from here as she tips the valet. Hard to understand why Mr. JR Ewing would kick a lady like that to the curb. None of his concern, he knows that. But sure is funny how these rich folk ain't never happy with what they got. And they got a lot, don't they.

Well he finally got something special himself and he'll fight to keep her. That's all he's doing here. Fighting for what's his. He don't hold nothing against Sue Ellen Ewing. No sir. But that Harris Ryland does. And he sure means business, no doubt about that. He'd just as soon shoot his own mother than lose a bet. There's something unnatural about that man; wouldn't be surprised if his heart's made of coal. Wouldn't be surprised in the least.

So he does as Harris tells him because if he don't, Harris will do what he said he would. The man's wife will be deported back to Mexico at best, or sold to the sex trafficking cartels at worst. "You choose," Harris told him, "you seal your wife's fate by how well you succeed or how badly you fail on this task." Said it with a smile, too. Cold son of a bitch.

So here he sits, waiting for Sue Ellen Ewing to eat her fancy dinner, have her charming conversation, blow air kisses, get in her expensive car and drive home so he can get this over with.

* * *

Sue Ellen walks quickly to the bar, leaving a cascade of gentlemen tipping their hats behind her. She pays them no mind at all. There's only one man she's looking for. He'd better already be here. She'll be damned if she's going to walk into the steak house blind, only to be led to an empty table to wait on him. Hell no. Sue Ellen Ewing doesn't wait on anyone anymore.

She glides around the corner of the bar entrance and walks slowly along the length of the mahogany counter laden with martinis, wine glasses and vodka tonics. Two blondes in tight black dresses cut low and hemmed high flank a man in a white silk shirt, untucked and unbuttoned to his hairless chest. The ladies laugh too loudly and move with the slow motion of a drunken haze. Sue Ellen realizes she is staring. She breaks her gaze and continues to the end of the counter that looks out upon the steak house dining room from an elevated angle. Scanning the seated patrons left, right and left again she does not see JR. Her watch reads 8:16 p.m. Damn him. Still playing the advantage, that old bastard.

"Evenin' ma'am. Can I get you something?" the bar tender asks Sue Ellen.

"What?"

"Uh, what would you like to drink tonight?" he says and lays down a napkin.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was, uh, I'm just waiting for someone. Nothing yet. I mean, no, nothing. I don't want anything, thank you."

"Some water, maybe?"

How she hated that water offer sometimes. As if the asker has just caught on to her little secret. And it's not a secret anyway. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I haven't had a drink in 20 years. And I don't miss it."

"Good for you ma'am. Good for you indeed. Booze is a real mean bitch. Haven't seen anyone she takes kindly too. Not a one. Can't say as I resent the spell though. Job security, you know," he says and leaves Sue Ellen with a wink and a smile.

Then above the din of conversation and clinking glasses, she hears him. Her eyes follow that familiar laugh to the hostess station and they rest upon the man himself. There stands JR in all his Ewing glory, grey suit and vest, white shirt with extra starched collar, silver tie and a white Stetson to top it all off._ A white hat, just like Ruby said_. JR pats the hostess on the shoulder and Sue Ellen sees a flash of that huge gold 'JR' watch on his left wrist. Gaudy thing.

The hostess leads JR to a prime booth alongside the tinted windows and somewhat removed from the main dining floor. He sits down and slides to the middle, giving him a clear view of the entrance to the restaurant. He looks at his JR watch and Sue Ellen nearly laughs aloud in the bar. If nothing else, she made JR Ewing wait tonight. A small victory but she'll take it.

* * *

JR hails the waitress. The buxom brunette leans towards him as he speaks. She touches his shoulder before leaving the table. JR doesn't watch her sashay away. Instead he looks at his watch again and purses his lips. Sue Ellen has watched him from afar for several minutes. She toys with the idea of leaving him there. Would that hurt him? No, of course not. Who is she kidding?

JR's waitress appears at the bar a few feet from Sue Ellen. "Bourbon and branch," she calls out to the bar tender. "And a lime tonic," she says. The bar tender mixes the bourbon and spritzes the tonic water into the highball glass garnished with lime. No mistake who the B and B is for. The waitress places both drinks on her tray, turns and walks toward Sue Ellen on her way back to JR's table. She stops in front of Sue Ellen. "This is from Mr. Ewing," she says and hands her the tonic.

Sue Ellen's mouth falls open but she quickly closes it. She turns slowly around and JR waves at her from his table, smiling wryly. She is mortified but recovers fast. "Thank you, honey," she says and takes the drink from the waitress. "Just what I was waitin' on," Sue Ellen says. The bar tender gives her a puzzled look. "Tell Mr. Ewing I'll be along in just a minute, will you please?" she asks the waitress. The girl nods and smirks slightly.

Sue Ellen heads to the ladies room to collect herself for a moment. How long had he seen her standing there in the bar? Did he see her watching him? How stupid. Why hadn't she just arrived without any fuss. She takes a deep breath and powders away a few beads of moisture on her lip. No worries, she assures herself. What does it matter? It's not like she's fighting for his affection anymore. She'll come to the table when she's good and ready. She reapplies her lip gloss and takes a step back from the mirror. This really is a fabulous dress.

Five minutes later, Sue Ellen descends the three steps at the main entrance to the restaurant's sunken dining room. She walks confidently to JR's booth, silver clutch in one hand and lime tonic in the other. Several pairs of eyes follow her, male and female alike. JR sees her approaching. The smug expression disappears from his face. His eyes widen, he swallows hard and stands up from the booth. He takes his hat off and grips it with both hands like a security blanket.

"Sue Ellen," he says and kisses her on the cheek. His face lingers near hers a few seconds too long. She hears him inhale her perfume. "Well don't you look pretty. Just…lovely," he says and clears his throat. "What do you call that color, purple or…? Since when do you like that type of color? Is that a new dress? You go out and get a new dress just for me?" he says with a wink.

Sue Ellen smiles and sits down. "This? Heavens no. This dress is from several collections back. Didn't even cross my mind to go shopping today, I've been so busy with the campaign. In fact I ran into a major contributor in the bar just now. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long?"

JR laughs. "No honey, no I only just got here myself." Their eyes meet and both hold the gaze until Sue Ellen looks down. She plays with the closure on her clutch, snapping it open and closed on the table. JR puts his hand over hers, taking note of her black lacquered nails. "It's good to see you Sue Ellen. It's been a long while."

Sue Ellen stiffens at the touch of his hand. She looks up from the table and smiles slightly. She turns away from his face and her eyes rest on his signature drink. "Well I see some things never change," she says and pulls her hand out from under his.

"Oh I don't know about that. Some things have changed quite a bit, I'd say," JR says.

* * *

"How ya'll doin' tonight?" the waitress asks.

"Just fine, honey," JR says. "Why don't you bring us a couple of Caesar salads, an order of escargot and a nice basket of hot rolls to start."

"You have quite an appetite, JR," Sue Ellen says.

"Whatsa matter Sue Ellen? You turn into one of those gals who eats like a damn bird when I wasn't lookin'? You sure are thin, I tell you."

"He's so charming, isn't he?" Sue Ellen says to the waitress.

"Come on now. Let's enjoy this good food…and good company," JR says. "Oh and honey?" he calls after the waitress. "Keep my glass full. And freshen Mrs. Ewing's tonic."

Sue Ellen feels a pang when JR says "Mrs. Ewing". What was that? Good lord, was it…pride? She fiddles with her clutch closure unknowingly.

"Now why don't you just relax, Sue Ellen?" JR says. "We're just - "

"I am totally relaxed, JR. In fact, why are you sitting so far away? Why don't you slide over a little closer? So you can hear me better," Sue Ellen says, delighted her sarcasm is still on par.

"Hahaha, well don't mind if I do," JR says as he moves from the edge of the curved booth bench to the middle. "That's better, isn't it?" He smiles and Sue Ellen rolls her eyes, but a smile escapes her lips.

"Now tell me about our boy, Sugar. I expect he's changed some while I was, uh, indisposed up at the rest home. He ought to be his own man by now."

Sue Ellen takes a sip of tonic water. "Well, he's a fine young man. Busy, lots of friends - "

JR shakes his head and interrupts, "Uh uh. Strip all that flattery away, Sue Ellen."

"Forgive me if I'm proud of my son."

"Yes well that's nice. But that don't tell me what I need to know."

"And what exactly do you need to know, JR?"

"Can he handle oil? Is he suited for it? Is he firm in the mind? Or does he melt under pressure like that fool cousin of his? That Christopher's a goddamn accordion, collapsing and whining at every bump in the road. Panicking when things go wrong, stomping off like an angry little boy. Who's that sound like? I don't think I have to remind you John Ross is genetically predisposed to this nonsense - "

"Oil, oil, OIL! That truly is all you care about, isn't it JR? I swear when you're dead I'm going to pour your ashes into the pounding end of an oil derrick."

"That part is called the drill, honey, and that'll be just fine with me. The drill leads the charge. Nothin' happens without a good drill."

* * *

The waitress returns with the starter food and a fresh bourbon for JR. He grabs a hot roll, butters it and hands it to Sue Ellen.

"When did you last talk to him?"

"To whom?"

"John Ross, Sue Ellen. Come on now, pay attention here. Are you on medication or something?" JR laughs to himself. Sue Ellen pauses at the question. She decides to ignore it, for now.

"I called him a few days back," she says.

"Well? What's he up to? How did he sound?"

"I, well…I don't know. He hasn't called me back yet."

"What? What the hell's got him so busy he can't call his mother - "

"Calm down JR. I told you, he's a busy young man. He'll call when he can. I'm sure he's just fine."

"No. No I don't like this anymore than I like what's happening at Southfork, Sue Ellen. Goddamn Bobby and that shady wife of his prancing around the ranch like they own the place - "

"They do own the place and you have yourself to thank for that."

JR waves his hand in the air. "No lectures Sue Ellen, not right now. I can't rewind the clock. What's done is done. But I can change how it's gonna be from here on out. And I will. I'll put my little brother back in his place, his wife and "son" too. You mark my words."

"What do you want, JR? Everyone sitting down to dinner at 6:00 again each night? Unending talk about oil deals and - "

Yes. Yes Goddammit! That's my Daddy's legacy you're talkin' about as if it's no concern at all. Southfork, oil, prime cattle and all the rest of it is Ewing through and through. And it's gonna stay that way from start to finish. I'll see to it, if it's the last thing I do. My mama's spirit is still on that ranch, Sue Ellen. She and daddy would be heartsick to see what's happened to this family. Everyone goin' off in different directions, no focus on the business. Ewings are oil men for christ's sake. And what's it come to now? Oil to be had and no Ewings to be found," JR pounds his fist on the table.

"Where's my son's head at, Sue Ellen? I'll tell you where. It's clouded up with that no good girl lives out in the old tack house. What's she still doin' on my ranch anyhow?"

"I - "

"Don't talk Sue Ellen. Let me finish."

Sue Ellen resigns herself to her salad.

"The few times I've seen him since I've been home, she's all he talks about. We need to wipe her away, Sue Ellen. She's not good for John Ross. No sir. She's - "

"Elena's interested in drilling, actually," Sue Ellen says.

"What? In drilling OIL?" JR says.

"That's right. She excavates herself, too. Does it with her computer. She doesn't need anyone's mineral reports. She and John Ross have talked about partnering on a drill site. She…doesn't have the capital just yet," Sue Ellen says. "Maybe you should consider investing. I've been thinking about it myself."

"What! Have you lost your damn mind? Our son can find his own oil. He's a Ewing. It's in his blood. John Ross will bring Ewing Oil back in no time, you'll see. He'll be president of the most powerful oil company in Texas, just like Daddy wanted," JR says.

Sue Ellen puts her fork down. "JR, listen to yourself. Here you are older than your Daddy ever became and you're still chasing after his approval."

JR looks up from his plate. He opens his mouth to speak but says nothing. He takes a long sip of bourbon.

"Sue Ellen, John Ross deserves just as much a shot at this dream as my Daddy gave me. Now granted, Daddy was a better role model to me than I've been to John Ross…and a better husband to Mama than I was to you…but I've still got some tricks worth teachin' if he's willing to learn. And the only way that's gonna happen is to get this family set right again. The Ewings got to pull together and get down to business. I need you to stand by me on this Sue Ellen. I can't do it without your help."

What's this? She's the only one who can help him? This smacks of desperation, doesn't it? JR Ewing vulnerable? This doesn't happen every day. The evening is going better than Sue Ellen had ever imagined. She's got to take full advantage of this. She tries to think of the most cutting remark possible and when ready to fire, she looks up from her plate of escargot.

JR sits leaning toward her, his hands clenched into fists on the table. His brow is tightly furled and his eyes moisten slightly when they meet hers. She cocks her head. This is not a man to be slayed by clever words at this moment. Before she knows it, she says, "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

JR's familiar smile returns and he takes her hand. "I want you to come to Sunday dinner at Southfork every week. Starting tomorrow. Family dinner's not to be missed. And you're still a part of this family Sue Ellen, whether you like it or not," JR says with a wink and a squeeze of her hand.

"I can't promise I'll be there every Sunday, JR. My campaign demands a lot of my time, I'm sure you understand. But I'll do my best…for John Ross's sake." It would be nice to see her son every week, she thinks to herself. "So will I have my old seat at the table?" Sue Ellen asks with a giggle.

"Oh I don't know, sit wherever you like I suppose. I really haven't given it any thought," JR says.

"Well perhaps you better. You're Ewing One now JR. Start acting like it," Sue Ellen says.

* * *

My goodness. Planning John Ross's future, pushing Bobby and Ann off Southfork's royal thrown and a few stokes from JR at the embers of romance all before the entree. It's going to be a long dinner, Sue Ellen says to herself and sighs contently. The waitress returns to check on their progress.

"Perfect timing, darlin'," JR says. "Let's get going on dinner now. The lady will have the lobster with a dry baked potato, butter on the side, and mixed vegetables. I'll have the porter house, mashed potatoes and creamed corn. Let me get a few more of those rolls, too, sweetheart," JR says. The waitress never even looks at Sue Ellen.

"Very good, Mr. Ewing. I'll be right back with those hot buns and a fresh B and B for you," she says, flips her long dark hair and widens her full red lips into a big smile before walking off. JR follows her with his eyes this time.

Sue Ellen snaps her fingers at JR. "Over here, _Mr. Ewing_. Tell me, what if I don't want lobster tonight? Hhhm? Did you even think of that?"

"No I did not. Never in the history of dinners have you ever not wanted fresh Maine lobster when it was on the menu, Sue Ellen. So what's your point?"

Sue Ellen stares at him. He's not missed a beat even after all these years. His hair may be white and his face leathered, but he's as commanding as ever. Sue Ellen is surprised she is relieved to realize this. She looks away while fingering her earring.

Sensing her shift, JR smiles and softly says, "Sue Ellen, honey, sittin' here next to you is something I wasn't sure was gonna happen. And well, I sure am happy to see you. And if I may say so, every man here with eyes in his head is looking at you and wishing he was me. I do thank you for having dinner with me, darlin'. Means a lot to me," he says.

JR clears his throat. "Now, tell me about your campaign. What's this all about, this governor bit?"

"You makin' fun of me, JR?"

"No. No honey, I certainly am not. Just surprised, I guess. Didn't take you for politics, is all. It's a lot of aggravation you know, tryin' to keep people happy. Everyone wants a piece of you, I know how that is," JR laughs. "Takes a lot of money to run a campaign. You sure you wanna do this? Why not just keep on with your foundation and your fundraising and so on?"

"That's not enough anymore, JR. I do enjoy my foundation work and the causes it supports. I still get satisfaction from a good fundraising event. But there's a limit to what you can do with those activities and I've reached it. So, I want to go to the next level where I can really change things - "

"Ah, you got a whiff of that sexy beast called power, did ya? Well now we're talkin'! I completely understand that, Sue Ellen. In fact - "

"Stop, JR. It's not what you think. I'm not a power-hungry woman out to prove something. I don't need a title to make me feel worthwhile, like some….well never mind. It's just…some things very fundamental to people's happiness are not right in this State and they must be changed at the legislative level. And governor of Texas can do it."

"Like what things? What's wrong with the great state of Texas? Well wait a minute now, there are some very unreasonable restrictions on hydraulic fracturing that I would like removed. Forget the petroleum, if we could get at that natural gas Ewing Oil can bite off a whole new chunk of change. Ever since what those boys did at the Barnett Shale over in Bend Arch Basin 15 years ago, I've had my eye on coal seam gas. You know how much methane's in that?"

"Why don't you tell me," Sue Ellen says, trying not to sound interested.

"Upwards of 90% pure, Sue Ellen. You know down in Australia they're already on to it. Coal seam fuels nearly all of the gas market over there. Well there's shale all over this state, Sue Ellen. Only thing that keeps it out of reach is a bunch of tree huggers hangin' on these laws," JR says and polishes off another bourbon. His eyes gleam now.

"Yes, I'm aware of those land management restrictions on fracking and it's something I would consider but - "

"Well alright, Sue Ellen, alright! I see the light now. I understand what's goin' on here. In fact I can damn near guarantee you heavy endorsements from the cartel, they'll want in on this. And I don't think I have to remind you their pockets run deep, honey. Real deep. Hell I still got friends in transportation and refinery, all their folks are unionized now. You get those unions under your hat and you can damn well claim victory right now."

"JR, believe it or not oil and money are not top concerns for my campaign. Health care is," Sue Ellen says and braces for impact. JR sits dumbfounded. "JR? Did you hear me?"

"Health care? Why? What the hell do you care about anyone's health insurance but your own?"

"I suppose that's a fair question. And I'm prepared to answer….JR, I have something to tell you - "

The waitress arrives with dinner and a side of overly perky attitude. She sets the entrees down and uncovers the plates. The meals are generous portions beautifully presented. She claps her hands together and says, "Ya'll don't hold back now, you only live once!"

* * *

Sue Ellen hangs on the waitress's comment. Is this some sort of cosmic nudge to get this over with?

JR smiles at his plate of steak and potatoes as if it's a beautiful nude woman. "Mmm mm, don't that look good? Now what's that Sue Ellen? You wanna tell me something? Let me guess, you've fallen back in love with me. That's totally understandable, darlin'."

Sue Ellen smiles faintly. For once she wishes JR had not been paying attention. She takes a sip of water. She wants to press the cold glass against her flushed face. She takes another sip.

"Sue Ellen? Well come on now, let's have it."

Sue Ellen takes a deep breath and looks JR straight in the eyes. "Alright. Timing couldn't be worse though. I don't mean to ruin your appetite."

"Honey the only thing that could do that is Cliff Barnes showing his ugly worn out face here at this moment. Have you seen him lately? Bumped into him at the courthouse last week. He looks 101 years old, Sue Ellen. I kid you not. Wouldn't be surprised if he falls over dead any day now."

"JR, I have HIV."

JR freezes in the middle of chewing some steak. His eyes narrow. He puts his fork down and swallows the lump of meat with a strained expression. When he finally speaks he says, "What did you say, Sue Ellen?" JR mutters a tight laugh. "It sounded like - "

"You heard right. I'm HIV positive, JR. Do you understand what that means?"

"Do I understand? Hell no I do not understand. Are you playin' around with me Sue Ellen? Someone put you up to this? Well it's in very bad taste - "

"JR. Now you stop talking. I know this is unexpected news and I'm sorry about that but you're John Ross's daddy and it's only fair that you know about my condition." JR sits silent, unmoving. I was diagnosed quite a while ago and I'm doing well now. There were some rough times in the beginning but I have a wonderful treatment team and they've found the right drug cocktail for me. It seems to be working real well. As a matter of fact I just got my quarterly blood results and they couldn't even detect a viral load." Sue Ellen smiles big.

"Drug…cocktail?" is all JR says.

"Yes, yes that's right. That's what they call it. Although I only take one pill now, I used to take nine a day. But now this medicine's like a super pill, all those nine in one. As long as I stick to my treatment and maintain a healthy lifestyle the doctors are optimistic about my prognosis, considering."

"Does John Ross know this?"

"Uh, yes. He knows I have it. I don't burden him with all the details or every test result, but yes he knows about it."

"My God does he have it?"

"What? No. Of course not."

"Well how do you know that? From what I've heard - "

"He's been tested, JR. Alright? I suppose you want to see the papers - "

"Who the hell gave this to you Sue Ellen? Which filthy son of a bitch did you sleep with that put this foul disease into you? Hhmm? Was it that goddamn Lockwood? Did he do it? He always did look like a walking virus to me. Good lord, was it BARNES? Is that why he looks so wrung out? Who - "

"How do you know it wasn't you, JR? You slept around enough for both of us, collecting more samples than a Petrie dish," Sue Ellen says in a raised voice. She laughs bitterly. "Don't look so scared. Bobby had you tested during one of your physicals in the rest home. You're not infected." Sue Ellen sighs. She speaks in nearly a whisper now, "Well isn't this ironic. The playboy's free and clear, while I fight for my life every day."

Sue Ellen looks at JR. Neither say anything. He looks small, shrunken into his suit jacket, his eyes wide and face slightly pale. Has JR finally met a formidable opponent? Well who can blame him? HIV can make the mightiest crumble.

"Sue Ellen, I am truly sorry," JR says. "I'm sorry….for everything." He reaches out and touches her cheek, brushes her hair out of her eyes. "You don't deserve this. You didn't deserve…any of it," he says. Sue Ellen's eyes begin to water and to her surprise, so do JR's.

"Excuse me a minute, honey. I need to use the restroom. I'm old and rusted now so excuse me." JR gets up too quickly from the booth and stumbles a little as he walks away.

"JR are you alright?" Sue Ellen calls after him.

He doesn't turn around but waves his hand in the air. As he passes the mirrored wall next to their booth, Sue Ellen sees his reflection. He is crying.


	9. Chapter 9

Sue Ellen twists her napkin until it starts to shred. She looks at her watch. JR's been in the men's room for nearly 10 minutes. Should she send someone to make sure he's alright? No. She doesn't want to embarrass him. But? She sighs.

JR Ewing brought to tears is unnatural, almost surreal. She tries to recount the few times she's seen emotion like that from him, even if she was just looking over his shoulder. How many times has he hidden that from her, she wonders. Oh, does it really matter? Of course it does.

The waitress breaks her contemplation. "How's dinner', ma'am? Everything alright?"

Sue Ellen looks to the restroom again. "Well actually," Sue Ellen says, "I wonder if you could help me with something."

"Yes?" the waitress says just as Sue Ellen sees JR's Stetson hat in the distance over the girl's left shoulder.

"Um…oh, never mind, it's nothing. Thank you," Sue Ellen says as JR approaches.

"Oh Mr. Ewing, everything alright with your meal?"

"Well yes, just delicious. Thank you darlin'," JR says.

The waitress turns to Sue Ellen, "Are you sure you don't need anything? Whatever you were about to ask me, I'm happy to try and help," she says to her. JR stands looking at Sue Ellen with a puzzled expression.

"Oh. Yes, well thank you honey. I, uh…can you get me some water please?" Sue Ellen says. Both the waitress and JR look at her full glass of tonic water. Sue Ellen laughs a little too hard. "Oh alright. To be honest I was going to ask you to take a picture of Mr. Ewing and I, but I'm sure you're too busy to do that just now."

"Not at all! Certainly. Where's your camera?"

Sue Ellen sits smiling for a moment, then suddenly pulls her cell phone out of her clutch. "Well come on, sit down JR," she says. JR does as he's told and Sue Ellen readies the phone. "Here you go, ready when you are," she tells the waitress. JR looks at Sue Ellen oddly. "Well lean in, JR, pretend that you like me will you?" she says. JR scoots close and puts his arm around her.

The waitress holds the phone out and says, "1…2…" Just before 'three', JR kisses Sue Ellen's cheek and the phone clicks. "Aw, y'all are so cute," the girl says and hands the phone back to Sue Ellen before walking away.

"Now that was morbid, Sue Ellen. You tell me you've got a terrible disease and then it's let's take a picture? What are you keeping from me? Are you sicker than you look?" JR asks, his worried eyes searching her face.

"What's morbid is you kissing my cheek, you old man. And your lips are cold as ice, just like your heart," Sue Ellen says trying to play in JR's comfort zone.

JR laughs loudly. There. He's back on his feet.

* * *

JR and Sue Ellen wait on coffee after the dinner plates are cleared. Sue Ellen smiles contently, appreciative of JR's sincere attention during dinner as she told him about her plans to reform healthcare and rid Texas of the pre-existing condition exclusion. The waitress returns and sets two coffees on the table. Sue Ellen picks hers up to sip.

"Now wait a minute, Sue Ellen!" JR says. "Put that down, let me taste mine first, make sure we got the right cups." He takes a drink, followed by an "Ahh", confirming the whiskey-spiked coffee he ordered for himself.

"Go ahead there, honey. All clear. We can't have you fall off the wagon now, not with all these speeches to give. Hahaha, can you just imagine that Sue Ellen? You three sheets to the wind up at a podium talkin' about health care?" JR looks up from his cup to see Sue Ellen glaring at him.

"Oh come on now, honey. I'm just kidding with you. If we can't laugh at ourselves, who can we laugh at?". Sue Ellen purses her lips. JR puts his coffee down. "No Sue Ellen, in all seriousness, I wish you the best with your campaign. I truly mean that. And…well, I'm proud of you darlin'. I really am. Who'd have thought you of all - "

"Don't ruin it, JR," she says with a smile.

JR laughs. "Well you let me know if there's anything I can do to help, alright? You tell me if you run into any trouble. Ole JR's still one of the best trouble shooters around."

Trouble? Has Harris Ryland become trouble yet? Sue Ellen doesn't think so. Hard to tell, though. It's his move and she'll have to wait for it. JR hangs on his 'trouble shooter' offer. With every passing second he looks more disappointed she is not bringing forth a problem for him to solve. JR smiles tight lipped and smoothes the table cloth in front of him. Sue Ellen sure would like to know what he'd do about Harris's blackmail stunt and what he'd think of her own. But can she trust him?

Sue Ellen decides to test how much he trusts her. "JR, what pushed you so deep into depression that you stayed in that rest home all these years?"

Not what JR was hoping Sue Ellen would say. His face twists into a pained expression. He looks down at his hands for a moment, then gazes out the window at the downtown Dallas lights.

"Sue Ellen, you ever watch loggers fell a forest?"

"What? No. Why? Have you?"

"Yes, yes I have. I stood next to my Daddy when I was barely up to his hip and watched log men clear acres on Southfork, before we had much cattle. Those huge trees fell like dominos just where the men wanted all because of a few precise cuts. Daddy was so impressed with those loggers. He'd say, "JR, you see what they're doin' to those trees 50 times their size? You can tell the best loggers from the bunch. No fear, they just walk right up and get it done. Don't be a bad logger, JR. Everyone can see you comin' and your trees will fall over backwards. You'll make a mess out of your life and everyone else's."

"That's what I do, Sue Ellen. All my life I been fellin' forests of one kind or another, tree after tree, cut and laid exactly where I meant for it to go. Think what you want of it, but one thing's for sure. Every deal I made, every hand I shook, every back I broke, I did it for the family, to keep the Ewings on top where we belong. And one day I turned around and there was no family. You run off, and John Ross after you. Bobby marrying one fool woman after another, not paying any mind to business. Daddy and Mama gone….Sue Ellen, you ever feel like you're driving through your life on the wrong side of the road?"

"Yes. It's called regret, JR, and I've got plenty of it. Believe me, I know what it's like to feel despair. Have you forgotten who you're talking to? It's a darkness all its own. But seven years, JR? Seven years you lingered in that home neither here nor there? How could you stand it - "

"Because I wasn't man enough to shoot myself in the damn head and be done with it. So I left this Earth for a while. I really did. I set my mind on automatic and I crawled way back into my memory. So far back, Sue Ellen. You were there, Mama and Daddy, and baby John Ross. Everything just as it was, except I didn't need to make you feel small, and Daddy didn't need to make me feel small. And I liked it there, Sue Ellen, crazy as that sounds. I was a better man in my imagination than I'll ever be in real life. And that's the ugly truth."

Sue Ellen looks stunned. She blinks back tears but one spills over defiantly, "JR don't you crawl back into the corners of that warped mind of yours ever again, you hear me? And if you even so much as think about it, you're gonna let me know. You promise me that right now."

"Oh is that right? And just what are you gonna do about it, Sue Ellen? Come at me with those black claws of yours and wrestle me back into the present with all its misery?"

"No. No, I will not handle you roughly for fear of breaking your brittle bones. But I will love you, JR. Maybe not in the way I once did, but I will love you as my precious boy's father, and as the man who loved me enough to give me his name and his family so long ago. I will always love you in this way, JR, and I'll remind you of that when you need it and you won't want to go to that make believe place. You'll have no use for it. Simple as that."

JR's chest heaves once and he swallows hard. He presses his napkin to his lips for a second and quickly brushes his fingers along Sue Ellen's arm. He clears his throat and says, "Well that's enough of that, Sue Ellen. You'd think we're a goddamn soap opera to hear us talk like this. Come on now, let's go before they kick us out."

"No one's gonna kick us out, JR. You better sit back and order another drink because I'd like to get your take on something," Sue Ellen says and hails the waitress.

"Well now we're talkin', honey," JR says as he removes his hat and hangs it back on the peg of the booth post. He sits down again, stretches his arms and clasps his hands behind his head while leaning back into the red pleather booth. "I knew it. I knew you had something cookin'," he says. "What is it?"

"Settle down, JR. I've already taken care of it. I'd just like to tell you about it, that's all," Sue Ellen says.

"I'm all ears," he says as the waitress arrives with another bourbon and branch. "Ah, thank you sweetheart," JR says. "We've taken up this here table all night long. I hope this makes it worth your while, honey," he says and hands her a one hundred dollar bill. "You don't need to check on us anymore. We just want to talk a while longer undisturbed," JR tells the waitress and winks.

"A hundred bucks? Thank you so much, Mr. Ewing. I do appreciate that. Please come back and see us soon, I'm always happy to wait on you," she says gripping the tip. "Evenin' ma'am," she says to Sue Ellen and leaves the table.

"You still love doing that, don't you?" Sue Ellen says.

"What? Being thoughtful? No, it's against my nature. I guess you just bring out the best in me, Sue Ellen." JR laughs and sips his drink. "Alright now, let's hear it," he says.

Sue Ellen wets her lips and smooths her hair. "We both know John Ross had nothing to do with Marta Del Sol's death."

"Of course not….wait a minute…goddamn, Sue Ellen! Was it you? Did you dispose of that woman?" JR laughs and slaps his hand on his thigh.

Sue Ellen sighs. "Stop it, JR. This is serious. I bribed someone and it backfired in spades. Not only was it unnecessary, but there's proof of what I did."

JR stares at Sue Ellen. "Well I'll be damned. Who was it and what did you offer?"

"The Medical Examiner. I told him I'd give him a cabinet post in exchange for ruling Marta's death a suicide."

"How was this done? Tell me exactly what happened."

"I went to see him at the Coroner's office - "

"Oh hell no, Sue Ellen. Why did you do that? Let me guess. There's video."

"Well I was desperate to help John Ross. There were witnesses who put him at the scene and someone said they saw him running off in a panic - "

"You panicked, is what you did Sue Ellen."

"Fine. I'll admit I did panic. John Ross was in jail, JR, for _murder_. And you were nowhere to be found, by the way."

"Don't you put this on me, honey. John Ross got himself into this mess and I understand you wanting to get him out but walking into a government fortress like the Coroner's office to do it tells me two things right off. One, someone let you into that building which means they can corroborate the video showing you there and two, THERE'S VIDEO."

"There's audio, too," Sue Ellen says and looks away.

"Good lord Sue Ellen. Didn't you learn anything from me?" JR shakes his head. "Alright. So there you are on tape making this offer. Now why did it go bad? Who's toes did you step on?"

"Harris Ryland's apparently," Sue Ellen says.

"Ryland? What's that pale snake got to do with this?"

Sue Ellen sighs again. "Well I may have paid him a visit to re-instill his tankers on Southfork to transport the oil the Venezuelans were waiting on when Bobby stopped production. And Harris may have paid me a visit asking to launder money through my PAC in return, which I refused to do."

JR sits in disbelief across from Sue Ellen. "Well shut my mouth," he says. "You been busy, Sue Ellen. You know you blew the flute when you asked that snake for help in the first place and now he's come crawlin'. He's not gonna leave you alone until he gets what he thinks he deserves, Sue Ellen. This is unfortunate indeed. But tell me something, how's he know about your little deal with the Medical Examiner?"

"That's just it. I don't know the connection. Harris emailed me the video of me making the deal and said he'd send it to the media unless I relented on the laundering."

JR looks disgusted. "That Harris Ryland's something you scrape off the bottom of your shoe on a rainy day. He's a bottom feeder, always was, always will be. I remember him sniffin' around Lucy at the ranch when she was just a girl. That's the last he saw of Southfork, that dirty bastard. What's he dabbling in that he needs money cleaned anyway?"

"Well I'm not sure, but I'm on to something. I'm sure of it. He's bought a lot of high grade cooling trucks recently, under a different name."

JR's eyebrows peak. "How'd you find that out?"

"Never mind. The fact is I did and I used it to my advantage. I confronted him with it and he flinched. Not much, but enough to show I'm on the right track," Sue Ellen says.

"You confronted him? How?" JR asks, totally interested.

Sue Ellen smiles. "I went to his office and dumped a cooler of ice on his conference table. Asked him if he might need some for his refrigerated trucks. Then I told him to do what he wants with the video and I'll do the same with my information."

"Holy hell, Sue Ellen! Hahaha! Well shoot, damn if that don't give my heart a little tug. I can just see his face, those beady eyes pulled tight into slits. Hhmm. A face only a mother could love. Well what's next? What do you plan to do to him?"

"Nothing, unless he makes a move against me again," Sue Ellen says.

"Oh no, no Sue Ellen. That's not well played at all. You don't sit back and wait when someone's come pounding on your door like he has. You got to keep the upper hand. Now sounds like you threw him nicely off balance with this cold truck information and you got to keep on pushing. Don't you let him get his footing back. You retreat, and that's what's gonna happen," JR says.

"As for this blind bribe to the Medical Examiner, rule number one in the playbook is you must know your mark, Sue Ellen, inside out. You got to know just how far to push. You get someone right up against the edge and more often than not, they'll jump off themselves. You won't even have to get your hands dirty." JR laughs. "But you've got to know your mark to do that. Know what he wants and what he doesn't. Squeeze either side to make him turn whichever way you want. Know your mark, Sue Ellen. You go off hard ballin' a stranger and the odds are not in your favor, honey. You don't want to leave anything to chance in these endeavors, no sir. Bribery's a narrow gate. You got to make sure someone's gonna fit through before you open it."

Sue Ellen looks mesmerized as JR shares his secrets. She leans in to the table, elbows on top and hands clasped together.

"And another thing. You got to turn that mother bear switch off, darlin'. I know you want to protect John Ross but you do like that and you'll make costly mistakes if your head's not clear," JR says.

"I'll give Harris Ryland a little shoulder tap and let's see what happens," JR says and smiles.

"What are you gonna do, JR? I can't have him thinking I went to you for help, which I did not by the way. But it looks like I can't handle my business. He'll be thrilled."

"Don't you worry, Sue Ellen. He'll never know I'm on to anything at all. Harris Ryland is a slipknot. He wants to slide in and out of situations without leaving a trail. All I'm gonna do is draw a little attention to him. Just enough to chafe his hide. And from what I know about Ryland, he's not suited for chafing. He's nothin' but a city boy with a big shiny water gun. He ain't no cowboy.

* * *

When JR and Sue Ellen leave the Omni Hotel steak house it is nearly 11 p.m. A cool breeze tousles Sue Ellen's hair as they wait for their cars at the valet. Sue Ellen's Porsche arrives first. She turns to JR and pats him on the shoulder.

"Goodnight, JR. I enjoyed dinner," she says.

"Aw come on darlin', you gonna send me off into this cold with no more than a pat on the back?" he says. "Gimme a little sugar, would you? Sweeten up my coffee cup," JR says and holds out his arms. She rolls her eyes but steps fully into his embrace. He hugs her tightly for just a moment. "Goodnight, honey. Sleep tight, now," he says and tips his hat.

Sue Ellen tips the valet and drives off, exhaust pluming behind her.

"Hello Bum," JR says into his cell phone.

"Evenin' JR. Calling it a night?" JR's private detective and informal body guard, Bum, says into the phone from across the parking lot.

"Yes. It's been a long but lovely dinner."

"You want me to follow Sue Ellen? See where she goes?"

"No Bum. Let's leave Sue Ellen be. You've trailed her all day and I'm none the wiser for it anyway."


	10. The Narrow Gate Chapter 10

_*Hello to all! I continue to enjoy and appreciate your reviews. I'm touched you take the time to post them. It's a giant thrill to read your reactions :)_

* * *

JR's boots make a thundering rumble walking up the steel staircase of John Ross's condo. The years have slowed JR's gait but his steps are deliberate and unwavering. He clenches his jaw as he reaches the large brushed steel door. Damn this modern architecture and its ugly metal, he thinks. His watch reads only 11:17 p.m. He's surprised how quickly he got here; anger always did give him a lead foot. He repeatedly rings the door bell. No answer. JR looks squarely at the security camera, its red dot pulsing as it records. He steps backwards on the landing and looks up. Lights glow through the bottle glass windows upstairs and cast someone's shadow near the pane. JR's eyes narrow. He rings the bell again. Nothing.

"Open this door right now John Ross! Right now, boy, or I'll draw you out," he shouts and rings the bell once more.

John Ross's voice comes out of the intercom, "I'm busy Dad. Not a good time. You're drunk. Go home."

JR presses the 'reply' button, "Tell the girl you've got up there to put some clothes on. This will not wait. You come down here right now or - "

"GO HOME OLD MAN," John Ross says. JR stares at the intercom on the wall. He pulls his hat down low, slowly turns around and draws a pistol from a cross holster under his suit jacket. He fires one shot into the front tire of John Ross's black Ferrari parked in the driveway. The tire blows out after the gun shot's boom.

A shirtless John Ross opens the front door minutes later. "Are you crazy?" he yells and looks at the flattened tire, his car askew.

The neighbor's bedroom light goes on and she appears in the open window, "What's happened? Everything alright John Ross?"

"Good evenin' Mrs. McManus, it's John Ross's daddy, JR Ewing," he says and tips his hat. "My son did not respond to reason so I had to get his attention. Important family matter. I'd sure never leave my daddy out on the porch if he came calling at this time of night. Though I am sorry for disturbing you, ma'am. I hope you're not afraid?"

The older lady looks at John Ross and shakes her head. "Kids got no respect today, JR. It's a damn shame. And you sure as hell didn't scare me. This is Texas. We don't jump at every little pop around here, do we?" she says and waves. "Ya'll settle your score, you hear? Time's precious," she says before disappearing from the window.

JR pushes John Ross on the chest and he backs into the open front door. Elena stands wrapped in a towel halfway down the inside stairs. "Get your clothes on honey. You're goin' home for the evening," JR says. She looks at John Ross.

"Elena's not going anywhere. Say whatever you got to say in front of her."

JR looks at Elena and smiles. "This is Ewing business, young lady. You can hop in and out of bed with my son as much as you want but that don't make you any more Ewing then the next girl. Now have some self respect and go on home, honey."

John Ross stays quiet. Elena fights back tears and runs upstairs. JR stares at John Ross who says, "You got a lot a nerve comin' over here like this."

"Yes, yes I do. And don't you forget it," JR says as Elena emerges dressed from the bedroom, walks downstairs and out the front door without a word.

"Well, you happy now?" John Ross says.

"No. I'm not happy at all. CALL YOUR MOTHER," JR shouts.

"What?"

"You heard me. When's the last time you talked to your mama?"

"I don't know, maybe a week ago? She put you up to this?"

"Nobody puts me up to anything, boy. You don't know when you last talked to her means it's time to call her, you understand?"

"What do you care? She - "

"Listen to me. I just came from dinner with her and she praised you from front to back. Proud as can be of you and not a bad word to say. She told me she's sick. You do remember that, don't you?

John Ross rolls his eyes. "Yeah I know. But she's feeling fine. Why are you so shook up anyway? You yourself used to say she slept around enough to -"

JR slaps John Ross across the face. "Shut up, goddammit. That's your mother you're talking about. What's the matter with you? Anything good in you came from her. You got her to thank for your very life. I damn near killed her with heartache. I'll be damned if I let you do the same."

John Ross stands across from JR stunned, blinking from his stinging cheek.

"Things gonna change in this family," JR says. "We're going back to the Ewing ways and I won't hear otherwise. Starting tomorrow, family dinner at 6 o'clock every Sunday at Southfork and you will be there. So will your mother. Is that clear?"

"And what if don't show up?"

"You really are fond of that little Mexican girl aren't you? She sure is pretty. Well, if you don't come to dinner maybe I'll invite her to fill your chair and we'll talk about you and all the pretty girls in your life. She knows about them, right?" JR asks. John Ross clenches his fists. JR looks at his watch. "Well, this was fun. It's late. Goodnight, son. No hard feelings? I know I let the helm drift and I'm sorry about that. But I'm back at the wheel now and I'm gonna set everything right. You'll thank me for it, you'll see," JR says as he lets himself out. "Call your mother!" he yells over his shoulder.

* * *

Finally, the man thinks as he watches the valet open Sue Ellen's car door for her. He texts "I got the eye" to Harris Ryland on the disposable cell phone just as if he were on a real stakeout, he thinks rather wistfully. He shakes his head clear, inhales a deep breath of cold night air and starts his car. Here we go.

Sue Ellen drives home slower than usual; she's not particularly anxious to get there. Truth be told, she'd rather continue talking to JR about John Ross, Harris Ryland, Southfork, _the weather_, anything really. This was one of the best visits she'd had with him in years. Lord, he'd even cried for her, albeit with his back turned. No matter. His heart bled tonight when she'd least expected it and she's driving home a different woman than the one who arrived at the Omni Hotel hours earlier. She sighs contently.

Sue Ellen looks through the moon roof of her Porsche Panamera. The night wind has blown the black sky cloudless. The stars will not be ignored tonight, sparkling through the tinted glass. She opens the moon roof and the crisp air swirls her hair up through the opening. She feels invigorated, stimulated and all together fabulous. Why not prolong this enjoyment and take the road less traveled? She turns off the highway onto the quiet road along the lake. As she passes, the moon casts a silver net on the water's surface. Just then Patti Page begins singing "Try to Remember" on the radio. Sue Ellen sings along to the chorus until her voice cracks with emotion when Patti says, "try to remember when life was so tender." Her chin trembles and she quickly changes the station. Don't be ridiculous, she tells herself. Her life with JR was anything but tender.

"Stop this carrying on right now," she tells herself.

Sue Ellen drives no more than 50 feet around the bend when red and blue lights flash in her rear view mirror. The brightly colored strobes startle her. She hadn't noticed anyone driving behind her along the lakeside. She certainly wasn't speeding. What is this about? She continues a short distance and veers to the right, hoping the officer wants to pass. He follows her over and activates a pulsing siren. She hesitates to stop. The deserted road is only illuminated by the two vehicles' lights. But the strobes are on a light bar affixed to the patrol car's roof. The vehicle looks legitimate.

Too many crime shows, Sue Ellen decides and laughs nervously while coming to a stop. She sees a lone silhouette in the driver's seat. Suddenly a screen in the vehicle illuminates the man's face. Sue Ellen exhales. He is wearing a police uniform. The officer appears to be typing and speaking into a radio. Sue Ellen readies her driver's license and registration. She realizes she is not wearing her seatbelt. Of course, no wonder the stop.

Sue Ellen lowers her window as the officer approaches the driver's side door. "Good evenin' officer. Is something wrong?"

"Driver's license and registration please, ma'am."

"Yes, certainly. Here you are," Sue Ellen says with a smile.

The officer quickly looks at her information, then shines a large flashlight in her eyes.

"Officer, please. Is that necessary?" she asks, blinking at the bright light and shielding her face.

"Where are you coming from tonight, Mrs. Ewing?"

"Excuse me?"

Sue Ellen gets the flashlight in the eyes again. "Where are you driving from and to?" the police officer repeats.

"Well, I had dinner out and now I'm goin' home, if you must know," she says. "If you'll just tell me what this is about, we can both be on our way. It's such a chilly night…"

The officer stares at Sue Ellen. "You have anything to drink tonight, ma'am?"

"What? No. No I did not."

"Step out of the car, please."

"Why? What - "

The officer places one hand on his gun holster. "Are you resisting my command? Step out of the car now!"

Sue Ellen's heart pounds in her ears. What is happening here? She fumbles with her door handle and exits the car. The officer keeps one hand on his holstered gun. Sue Ellen stands in the beam of the police cruiser's headlights, the wind blowing her silk dress about. She looks up and down the road, not another motorist in sight. Although shaking, she looks squarely at the officer trying to make out his name tag. He does not wear one.

"Turn around please, Mrs. Ewing"

"What, what for?" Sue Ellen says, close to tears.

"Just do as I say, please, and this will all be over soon."

Suddenly Sue Ellen remembers Ruby's warning about someone meaning her harm under the cover of righteousness. This can't be, can it? The officer removes handcuffs from his belt. She considers running but there is nowhere to go. Ruby also said not to pull the serpent's tail. Breathing heavily, Sue Ellen does as the officer says and turns around. She tries to make out what he is doing from his reflection in the police cruiser's windshield but it's too dark.

"Now face me please," he says. She does. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he taunts. "Now then. I smell alcohol on your person ma'am and I'm going to give you a field sobriety test."

Sue Ellen's mouth drops. She goes to speak but thinks better of it. She needs to get away from this man. Perhaps if she cooperates, she will.

"Place your feet 12 inches apart. Hold your arms out to the side, tilt your head back and close your eyes. Touch each index finger to your nose alternately until I tell you to stop. Do it now."

As the wind whips her hair around and she holds back tears, Sue Ellen follows instructions. The officer focuses a cell phone on her as she performs the test and tries to take pictures but his gloved finger won't activate the button. He rips the Latex glove off and quickly takes several photos with the police car in the background.

"Stop. Now with your arms out to your side, walk toe to heel in a straight line towards me."

Sue Ellen breathes rapidly. The officer smiles. "Come on now. I'm not gonna bite ya," he says.

She slowly walks to him, carefully touching toe to heel in a perfectly straight line. She stops a few feet away from him. He looks her up and down, licks his lips and says, "You go straight home now, you hear?"

And just like that, he was gone. Sue Ellen leans against her car and nearly hyperventilates as she watches the police car drive off. What just happened? She feels disoriented and confused but one thing is certain, this was a sinister encounter, she is sure of it. She watches the police car's tail lights fade into the distance and only then does her breathing slow. As she turns to get in her car, something catches her eye on the road in the red glow of her parking lights. A crumpled black Latex glove lies on the asphalt. Sue Ellen collects it, turns her car around and speeds off toward the main highway.

Two miles down the lakeside road, the officer turns left into the empty parking lot of Rolly's Donut's and anonymously emails the cell phone photos of Sue Ellen with the subject of "Gov Candidate Sue Ellen Ewing Drunk Again" to the newspaper and television station tip lines Harris Ryland chose.

* * *

The young staffer working the tip desk enlarges the four photos, looking for evidence of digital tampering. After examining the images for a good while, she picks up the desk phone and calls her entertainment editor.

"Mr. King, it's Janet. Sorry to call you so late, but I think we've got something here."

"Oh? What's come in? And if it involves a Kardashian shame on you for piquing my interest."

Janet smiles. Sure "The Dallas Dispatch" entertainment section was a little on the campy side, but at least it focused on local celebrities and goings on that affect the community more directly than a Hollywood starlet's latest court appearance.

"Nope, not a Kardashian in sight. I'm lookin' at four photos of what appears to be Sue Ellen Ewing performing a field sobriety test for a police officer tonight."

"Ewing? Of the 20 years sober variety?"

"That's the one."

"My, this is interesting. Details?"

"The tip email box received the photos at 11:28 p.m. They're digital, time and date stamped for tonight and possibly from a cell phone camera judging by quality. There's a police car in the background with blue and red lights on. It's a pretty dark road so she's kind of backlit from the squad car's headlights and tinted reddish from another vehicle's rear lights, possibly her own car because a silver rear left fender's in the shot with lines similar to a Porsche."

"Anonymous sender?"

"Of course. They typed 'after dinner at the Omni Hotel with JR Ewing tonight' and a sad face. I called every restaurant in the Omni and finally got a talker at the steak house. A waitress confirmed they were there from about 8 to 11, and described what she wore. Matches the dress in the photos exactly."

"JR Ewing, huh? Well that's interesting in itself, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it. Those two are like our very own Liz and Dick. So do you want to run the pictures?"

"How confident are you they're not altered? Did you check the neck? The background shadows?"

"I checked all those things and more. This isn't Sue Ellen's head on someone else's body. Like I said, the outfit matches and it's an unusual dress, a purple designer number. No blending on the neck, no missing shadows of objects. Looks legit."

"What's her face look like? Her expression?"

"Well on two shots her head is tilted back slightly, eyes closed, lips pressed together. On the other two her head's more upright and her mouth is open, maybe gasping? Maybe even crying if you look at her eyes. They are scrunched closed and the skin around them glistens a little, like it's wet."

"Boy I'd sure like to see these pictures before deciding, but you know the drill."

"Yup. Can't be held accountable for what you didn't see."

"Anything else from the sender? IP address?"

"Yes but two different ones. The photo attachments came in two parts, one right after the other. The different IP addresses suggest it's a cell phone, probably a prepaid one and you know where that leads."

"The proverbial brick wall. And you called for comment?"

"Left a voice message at her campaign office, albeit at 12:15 a.m. on a Saturday night but yes, I called for comment."

"Well let's not fret any further about source issues until the photos are challenged. You've done due diligence up to our capability as recipients. This is big news to our gadfly community and of interest to voters. Let's run with it, but phrase the headline as a question not a statement. Post it online now and see if Production can get it in tonight before press time for tomorrow's paper. Good work, Janet."

Across Dallas, staffers with two other local papers, a tabloid website and the Dallas affiliate of NBC news are having similar conversations with their editors and producer.

* * *

Sue Ellen checks her rear view mirror every few minutes for the rest of the drive home. The way that officer appeared out of nowhere, she can't shake the feeling he'll do it again. At least she's back on the highway, bustling with other drivers coming and going. Maybe she's being silly, paranoid even. Could this have been a random encounter? He never did say the reason for the stop. Weren't officers supposed to state that? She wished there was someone waiting for her at home to talk to.

She pulls up her long brick driveway that curves around to the front door and breathes a sigh of relief. Oddly, Ruby's bedroom light is on, out of sorts for her elderly neighbor in bed by 10 every night. Sue Ellen's digital car clock displays 12:02 a.m. Maybe Ruby can't sleep. As jittery as she feels right now, Sue Ellen may have the same problem. She gathers her purse, activates the car alarm and turns to walk to the door when, as if on cue, Ruby appears in her upstairs bedroom window. Sue Ellen stops in her tracks, a little startled, but waves. Ruby shoves the window pane up.

"You just now rollin' in from your fancy dinner, Sue Ellen?"

"Ruby! My goodness what are you doin' up so late? Checkin' to see if I'd break curfew?" Sue Ellen looks at her watch. "It's just now midnight, ma'am. I do believe I've avoided turning into a pumpkin," she says and musters a laugh.

"He put the scare on you good, didn't he honey?" Ruby says. "I can see it all the way to here."

"He? What?" Sue Ellen asks.

"The trouble bearer, the unclean man I seen was comin' for you in my vision. The one I salted you for yesterday. You know who I mean, gal. He got to have you shakin' in your boots to pretend otherwise."

Sue Ellen stares at Ruby. How did she know Sue Ellen was scared? Is she really some kind of intuitive? Ruby sighs impatiently, her long silver hair cascades out the window, shining bright in the moonlight. If ever she looked the part, it was now.

"Well come on up here. I ain't got all night," Ruby says and disappears from the window.

Sue Ellen goes to greet Ruby with a hug when she opens the front door.

"Uh uh. Don't touch me yet, Sue Ellen," Ruby says and backs away. "I don't want your fear suckin' up my energy. And I sure do got some energy right now, girl. Hooo! He's a strong one, this devil nippin' at your heels. But I am up to task, honey, I surely am!" Ruby exclaims and claps her hands together as if delighted.

Ruby nimbly walks to the kitchen as Sue Ellen watches, wide-eyed. She smells bergamot tea brewing as she sits down at the dining room table. Ruby brings the pot, two cups, some lemon slices and a small glass container of dark nibs on a tray to the table. Her blue eyes are clear and pierce Sue Ellen with unabashed certainty. After a few moments of strange silence, Ruby pours Sue Ellen some tea.

"Tell me exactly how it happened. Don't leave nothin' out," Ruby says.

Sue Ellen describes her spontaneous decision to drive home alongside the lake, the sudden police lights, the encounter with the officer and the so called field sobriety test. Ruby does not say a word during Sue Ellen's story. When she finishes, Ruby is breathing slowly and closes her eyes.

"Ruby? Are you alright?"

"Shhh. Hush now," Ruby hisses.

A handful of long minutes pass before Ruby opens her eyes. Her shoulders relax and she takes a drink of tea. "He touch anything of yours? You got anything of his?"

Astounded, Sue Ellen reaches for her clutch. "I think he dropped this in the street. He was wearing them when he stopped me," Sue Ellen says and pulls the black Latex glove from her purse.

"Set it down right there," Ruby says pointing to the center of the mahogany dining table. "Take your hands off the table and scoot your chair a good ways back," she tells Sue Ellen.

Ruby rubs her hands together as if she's grinding kindling to start a fire. She mumbles something and suddenly takes a handful of those dark nibs from the glass jar. She again rubs her palms together, faster and faster. The pungent odor of cloves fills the air and Sue Ellen stifles a cough. Ruby makes a circle around the glove, enclosing it in a brown ring of ground cloves. When the ring is complete, she puts both hands on the table, leans over the glove and with her nose just inches from it, inhales deeply. Ruby holds her breath for an unnaturally long time and finally exhales with a such a wretch that Sue Ellen is startled right out of her chair.

"Ruby! My god are you okay? What in hell are you doing?"

Ruby slumps into her chair. "Take that filthy thing off my table, Sue Ellen. Put it away, if you please." Sue Ellen hesitates a moment before leaning across the table and collecting the glove. She puts it back in her purse.

"Listen here. You got yourself a twofer, honey."

"A twofer?"

"'Fraid so. Two for the price of one. This here man what stopped you this evenin' started out another man's pawn and ended with a taste for wrong doing. He liked what he done. Liked it so much I damn near choked on the stench of his glove. But he's a sloppy one, leavin' it behind like that. Good for you, bad for him but worse for whomever he marches for. It's gonna come to surface, this glove he left behind. And he'll be held to task for it. Yes sir, held like hammer to nail. It might very well be the end of him, in one way or another. But that's not your concern. What you got to do is keep an eye to the left, right, front and back. Can you do that?" Ruby asks.

"Uh, yes?" Sue Ellen says.

"Course not! No you cannot. How many eyes you got, gal? Two. That's how many. How you gonna keep two eyes on four places?"

"Ruby it's late. Please, just say what you mean. I appreciate your concern but - "

"The only way you gonna see all that's comin' at you is to get you some extra eyes, Sue Ellen. You ask somebody for help and you do it soon, hear? And if I was you, which I most thankfully am not, I'd drive that filthy glove right back to where it was you found it before that devil gets spanked for givin' it to you. Else he'll come a callin', I guarantee it and so does Isaiah, 'There is no peace,' says the Lord, 'for the wicked.' 48:22, honey. Now go on home and get on your knees to give thanks the Lord kept you out the dragon's lair tonight. And you getcha them eyes, Sue Ellen. I mean it," Ruby says before giving Sue Ellen that hug and closing the door.

Sue Ellen tries to process Ruby's riddles as she walks to her own door. As usual, she feels both enlightened and foolish after visiting with Ruby. And what's more, why is her neighbor the oracle telling her to ask someone for help when she can apparently see exactly what's coming? One riddle leads to another and Sue Ellen is too tired for any more of that. Of one thing she's certain, she is absolutely not going to drive back to the lake and put the officer's glove where she found it. Instead she's going to go over her Fort Worth rally notes one more time before the event tomorrow and say goodnight to this very eventful and strange day.

In her bedroom, after changing into her nightgown, she empties her evening purse and the glove drops onto her dresser in a crumpled black ball. Sue Ellen slowly leans down and tentatively sniffs it, expecting a horrible stench. It only smells faintly of cloves.

* * *

JR's black Mercedes sedan comes to a stop on the Southfork driveway, behind Ann's Range Rover. The house is dark aside from a low glow in Bobby and Ann's bedroom window. JR turns the engine off and sits in silence in his car. He enjoyed dinner with Sue Ellen so much, he didn't want the evening to end. He looks at the empty passenger seat next to him and sighs. How many hundreds of times did he take her for granted when she'd been sitting right there next to him? He wonders what she's doing at this very moment. Is she content at home? Restless? Sitting up thinking about him? Doubtful. JR sighs again. He cracks his window open to hear the crickets' serenade.

"So this is what it's come to? Grateful for the company of insects?" he says and shakes his head.

JR leans back in the driver's seat once more and closes his eyes. He doesn't want to go inside just yet. The big dark house seems like it doesn't want to let him in either; it's already gathered its own and gone to sleep. JR stares at the darkened porch and foyer. Used to be a light left on until the last Ewing came home. Was Southfork trying to tell him something? Maybe he is no longer a Ewing, in the truest sense anyway. JR bangs his hands on the steering wheel. There goes his mind running off with torment again, his warped mind as Sue Ellen said tonight. He wishes she was there to steady him, even with a sarcastic quip. He rubs his face and tries to turn off his contemplations of what it means to be a real Ewing, not wanting to know the answer right now.

But something he cannot deny is news of Sue Ellen's disease. This HIV business crowds his mind like a loud, intolerable intruder. And each time he tries to believe Sue Ellen will be okay the reminder of her illness sounds off like a gong in his head, determined to make him understand that people die from HIV; in the end they get AIDS and die. How is he supposed to fight this opponent? He's defeated everything else that's taken Sue Ellen before, in one way or another - men, career, even booze. But this virus? It's already won and it's sitting there next to him smiling in the empty passenger seat of his car.

JR sits up hastily, closes his window and walks up the drive. He reaches the door and unlocks it's cold handle. Inside the foyer he fumbles for the light switch.

"No consideration, goddammit," he says to the darkness.

Once illuminated, the interior of the house doesn't seem as uninviting. This is still Southfork, this is still his home, isn't it? JR tosses his hat on the dining room table, a habit that used to annoy his mother. Its muffled thud on the polished wood stops him in his tracks. He half expects to hear her say, "JR put that away. This table holds our family meals, not your dirty hat," smile sweetly and pat him on the shoulder. JR stands in the dining room and looks around for reminders of his mother. What would she think of Southfork now? He stares at the modern sofa in the family room, the pastel color palette, the ugly breakfast bar in the kitchen and Ann's kitschy decorations, not a trace of elegance to be seen. God, Miss Ellie would hate it.

"Looks like a goddamn hotel suite," JR says. He walks back to the foyer and stands at the foot of the stairs, the ones his Daddy built with his own hands. JR rubs his hand over his face for a minute. He turns and walks to the dining room again, looking at the table and chairs that once anchored the turbulent Ewings each night for dinner. His gaze stops on the chair at the head of the table and JR feels physical pressure in his chest. He leans on the edge of the table for a moment. Once collected, he walks to that chair and sits in it. He puts his hat back on, leans his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, resting his chin on them.

He closes his eyes and after a short while says, "Mama, I sure do miss you," and clears his throat before continuing. "I know you're resting with Daddy, but this family still needs you, it surely does. Just look what's happened to Southfork, Mama. It's like a goddamn bed and breakfast in here, looks terrible, doesn't it?" JR musters a tight laugh.

The silence is deafening and it leaves JR no choice but to say what he knows is true, "Mama, I'm sorry about all this. I know I haven't been acting like your oldest son for quite some time and I apologize for it. I just….I don't know what come over me. I'm sorry I hid away in that rest home and let this family go all to hell. Daddy's got to be shakin' his fist at me for that. You please tell him I'm sorry and I'm gonna set things right. I mean it. You'll see."

JR takes a deep breath. "Sue Ellen's sick, Mama. Please, you got to help me here. I don't know what to do for her. And John Ross is runnin' around like it doesn't matter. If you could….if there's a way to….help her. Please. Please help her, Mama. She's all alone now and she's had it with the likes of me. 'Course I don't blame her for that. Not one bit."

JR stays quiet for a minute. He has never felt so alone, sitting in his Daddy's chair talking to his Mama in heaven in the darkness of the Southfork dining room in the middle of the night. "Sue Ellen's comin' for dinner, Mama, every Sunday night starting tomorrow. I bet you'd like that, right? She's gonna help me get this family back together. You tell Daddy not to worry. The Ewings will be back. Just you wait and see. Oh, and Mama? I gave Sue Ellen your pearls. I know you don't mind. You always did love her. Better than seeing them around the neck of that woman Bobby's gone and married, anyhow."

JR opens his eyes and rolls his shoulders. He taps the table and says, "Goodnight, Mama," and blows her a kiss. He walks to the kitchen and writes a note for the housekeeper Carmen saying the family will gather for dinner tonight at 6 pm and to prepare a formal meal. He affixes the note to the refrigerator for all to see. Just as JR's boots finish walking across the tiled kitchen floor and are about to enter the foyer, Bobby creeps back up the stairs with tears in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucy gets out of bed and takes her tablet to the living room so the bright screen light won't wake her husband Boone, though he slumbers so deeply she doubts it would matter. How she envied his sleep these past few weeks. Random insomnia appeared out of nowhere and was fast becoming her constant companion. She wonders if she's beginning "The Change" already and rolls her eyes. Impossible, she tells herself. She's only in her early forties though she easily looks a decade younger. She affirms that assessment by checking out her ass nicely framed in purple lace panties in the full-length mirror as she walks out of the bedroom.

She flops on the couch and turns on the tablet. The screen reads 2:47 a.m. She taps on her bookmarks to access her favorite gossip sites, starting with The Dallas Dispatch because local dirt is more fun than national scandals. The page loads and Lucy sees her Aunt Sue Ellen's face staring back at her under the headline, "Gov Contender Sue Ellen Ewing Falls Off the Wagon?"

"What the hell?" Lucy shouts. Her widened eyes dart between the photos and the article text.

"Oh my god!" Lucy yells, followed by a loud giggle. "Boone! Boone wake up! You gotta see this," she shouts while running into their bedroom.

"Boone! Wake up right now!" Lucy shoves his shoulder. Her husband snorts lightly but his eyes stay closed. She sighs, straddles him and holds his palm to her breast. "BOONE!"

"Huh? Babe? Well hey there, babe," he says and smiles.

Lucy shoves his hand off of her bosom.

"Aw come on now. What's the idea - "

"Shhh. Sit up. Sit up, Boone!"

"Alright, alright. Dammit woman you test my patience you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah I know. But you love me, dontcha?" Lucy asks and bats her lashes while leaning in for a big kiss. "Look here. One of your police buddies stopped Sue Ellen tonight for DUI! It's on the internet with pictures!"

"Pictures? Lemme see that." Boone rubs his eyes and takes the tablet. "I'll be damned," he says and taps each photo to enlarge it. "Who took these photos? Does it say?"

"Well read it - "

"My eyes hurt and you tricked me out of sleep with a titty grab so you better just tell me what the hell it says, girl."

Lucy laughs and leans into Boone's side, taking his arm and placing it around her. "Okay, settle down cowboy. It says Dallas philanthropist and Texas governor hopeful Sue Ellen Ewing stopped for driving drunk? An anonymous source puts Sue Ellen Ewing dining with her ex-husband JR Ewing at the Omni Hotel tonight for about three hours, engaged in what seemed to be deep conversation. They left together near closing time and headed to the valet. A short time later another source provided these photos of someone who looks to be Sue Ellen, wearing the same outfit from dinner and performing what appears to be a field sobriety test in front of a police squad car." Lucy looks at Boone.

"Well go on," he says, interested.

Lucy continues reading, "Mrs. Ewing appears very upset in the photos. She's well known in Dallas as an advocate for recovering alcoholics after battling her own addiction for years. Ewing often mentions her 20+ years of sobriety with great pride and has become an inspiration to others struggling with substance abuse. However these photos beg the question, is Sue Ellen Ewing drinking again? Her office could not be reached for comment at publishing time and the Dallas Police Department claimed they could not discuss any pending investigations but did confirm that Sue Ellen Ewing is not currently in custody. Ewing is seeking the Democratic party nomination for candidacy in the next Texas governor race. Her website appearance schedule lists a campaign rally in Fort Worth tomorrow. For more information, see .com."

Boone grabs the tablet from Lucy and looks closely at the photos again. "Is that really her?"

"Oh it's her alright. I'd recognize that crying face anywhere, I've seen it so many times," Lucy says. "That dress is her style, too."

"Well I'd like to know where these photos came from," says Boone.

"Probably someone driving by recognized her. Wanted some internet fame, I guess. I'm surprised it's not a video on YouTube yet. Hey, lemme see that," Lucy says, wanting to check.

Boone keeps the tablet out of reach of Lucy's short little arms. He looks closely at the pictures. "Somethin' don't make sense here. This is a real dark road, off the main highway."

"So?"

"So we don't do DUI stops on deserted back country roads. Know why? 'Cause they're deserted. You do your DUI huntin' on busy streets that connect bars and clubs with the suburbs. And this sure ain't one of those streets. I'd like to know what this guy said to Sue Ellen. I can tell you in a heartbeat if he's legit or not," Boone says. "And I'll bet the farm he took these pictures his damn self. That's not okay at all, Lucy. You don't exploit people as an officer of the law, no matter who it is or how much money you're fixing to get for it."

The smile fades from Lucy's face. "Should I call Sue Ellen? It's 3 in the morning. What if she is drunk? I sure don't wanna know about it," Lucy says. "Hell she probably doesn't even know she's on the internet with this. God that's bound to get her all dramatic. No, uh uh, I'm not calling her. Hey, wait a minute. I'm gonna call Mark. He's her campaign manager, isn't he? Yeah. Your little brother oughtta deal with this, not me," Lucy says and reaches for her cell phone.

"Hello?" Mark says in a groggy voice.

"Mark! It's Lucy. Wake up!"

"What happened? Is Boone okay?"

'Yes, yes he's fine. He's not even working tonight. Listen buddy, I'm sorry to scare you calling so late like this but there's something you should know. Sue Ellen's on the internet taking a field sobriety test tonight, and there are pictures..….Mark?….You there?"

"What? Where are the pictures? What site?"

"I saw them first on Dallas Dispatch dot com. She's on their home page. Then I Googled her and a bunch of other sites have picked up the article too. I couldn't sleep so I was just messing around reading gossip at three in the morning. Man, I tell you this insomnia's so - "

"Lucy! I gotta go deal with this. Thanks so much for calling."

"Wait!"

"What is it?"

"Boone thinks there's somethin' fishy about the whole thing. The street being so dark and all."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Well I'm just telling you what he said. He wants to talk to Sue Ellen, ask her exactly what the officer said and did. He can tell you if the stop was legit or not."

"Legit or not? As in a set up? Are you serious?"

"Hey I'm just the messenger. He's already back to sleep otherwise you could ask him yourself."

"Tell Boone I'll call him in the morning, and I'll ask Mrs. Ewing what happened."

"Enough with the 'Mrs. Ewing' already! Mark, you're the one that's gonna save her ass on this. Call her Sue Ellen, for crying out loud. Level the playing field a little, would ya? It'll help you relax, too."

"I'm just being respectful, that's all."

"Well it sounds submissive. Is that how you wanna come off? Grow a pair and call the lady by her first name. She'll take you more seriously if you do, trust me. Sue Ellen's lightened up with age but she still puts on airs, she can't help it. It's inbred, you know?"

"Fine. Sue Ellen it is. No big deal," Mark lies. Lucy smirks at the phone. "And Lucy? Thanks. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this…the call," Mark says and sighs into the phone. Lucy can almost see it sliding out of his sweaty hand. Poor Mark. He was born nervous.

"No problem, Marky. You got this. You'll fix it. I know you will." Mark says goodbye, grateful for the vote of confidence. Lucy has more faith in him that he does, that's for sure.

* * *

Mark pours himself a tall mug of black coffee and turns on his laptop. He navigates to the Dallas Dispatch website and gasps at the pictures of Sue Ellen displayed above the fold on the homepage. He examines every inch of the photos, hoping to find something amiss. He reads and rereads the article. When he's finished, he takes a sip of coffee only to find he's already drank it all. He wipes his sweaty palms on his flannel pajama pants. Well, there's no denying it. Here it is, his first campaign crisis. What should he do first?

For the next 10 minutes, Mark wrestles his mind over why he didn't just listen to his mother and go become a "computer guy" somewhere instead of working 'round the clock to elect someone upon whose success his own career depends. What on earth made him think he could be a campaign manager? Mark laughs and it echoes in his silent, lonely apartment. His tired eyes scan the living room and settle on the picture of Jason, the love of his double life. The very same picture he hides away when his family visits. The very same Jason who understood so completely Mark's fear of coming out to his conservative, Baptist, big Texas family. Jason, whose only regret was working for an employer who offered too little health insurance to treat his disease, but too much to qualify for free treatment.

He left this world nearly four years ago and along with him went Mark's joy. His sense of purpose went dark, just vanished until he met Sue Ellen Ewing at Lucy and Boone's wedding. He overheard her telling a small group of family members her plans to run for governor and her platform of healthcare reform. He introduced himself and asked to hear more. Within five minutes she'd come right out and told him her passion for policy making came from her own experience with HIV and from nearly drinking her life away. That honesty punched Mark square in the face and knocked the hood of shame right off his head. He asked her for a job right then. And as if on cue, Boone was right there recommending him. Overselling him, actually, as was clear at this moment.

But that's why he's not a programmer for a living. So he better not piss away this chance to honor Jason's life and thousands of others by cowering to doubt and fear. Speaking of him cowering, where was Aubrey on this? She's the campaign's social media specialist. Wasn't she supposed to get an email alert every time Google crawled Sue Ellen's name online? Well it's two birds with one stone then. He slaps his sweaty hands on his face repeatedly and says, "Go time," while picking up the phone.

Sue Ellen answers on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep, "Hello?"

"Sue Ellen, it's Mark. Sorry to wake you, but it's important."

"Mark? What's wrong? What time is it?"

"It's four in the morning and I need you to shake yourself awake please. Have you gotten a heads up from Aubrey on this yet?"

"A heads up? On what? No."

"Well that's a shame because we'll have to play catch up then. The story's already been online for nearly four hours and your rally tomorrow really puts us behind the eight ball."

"What story? I don't know what you're talking about."

She sounds earnest enough. Mark continues fishing. "Sue Ellen, what did you do tonight? Where did you go?"

"I had dinner with JR at the Omni and then I went home. Why? What's this about?"

"This is about me being your campaign manager and finding out something troubling from the internet instead of from you. Now what else happened tonight?"

"There's something bad about me on the internet?" Sue Ellen pauses for a minute and with no reply from Mark, she sighs. "Something strange did happen on my way home. A police officer stopped me out by the lake and gave me a DUI test. It was completely humiliating. I don't even know why he stopped me, he never said. He just walked up to my door, asked for my license and told me to get out of the car. And when I hesitated, he put his hand on his gun and yelled at me to get out. His _gun_, Mark. He scared me to death, he really did," Sue Ellen says, her voice beginning to tremble. "It was pitch dark and there was nobody on that road but me, and him."

Mark winces upon hearing her emotion. He softens his demeanor a bit. "Okay so you were driving home on the road along the lake and he appeared from behind and pulled you over. Were you really alone?"

"Of course I was alone. I didn't pick up some young cowboy on my way home and I certainly didn't bring JR back with me."

Mark presses on, "You performed the test and then what happened?"

"Before the test, he said he smelled alcohol on me. Mark, I didn't have anything to drink. Not one drop. Please, please believe me!" Sue Ellen sounds near tears.

"I want to believe you. I know this is upsetting and I'm sorry, I really am. But as your campaign manager, I need to have a clear understanding of what happened so I can advise how to best respond. Now, I want you to get up, clear your head and write down an account of exactly what happened with that officer from start to finish. Do it quickly, but carefully, and call me back when you're done. Do not look at the internet yet, you'll be distracted if you do. Do you understand? I need you to trust me on this. When you call me back, I'll tell you what this is all about. And Sue Ellen? It's going to be alright. You can count on it."

Sue Ellen's finger hovers over the browser icon on her phone, wanting so badly to get online. But Ruby said to let someone help her, Sue Ellen recalls and decides to do as Mark asks. "I do trust you, Mark. I do. And thank you," Sue Ellen says before hanging up.

Mark opens a new message in his email account and types, "Aubrey, I already spoke to Sue Ellen about the DUI story. There is no need for you to contact her about it. I am handling it." and presses 'send'. He could nearly feel his pair growing by the moment.

* * *

Harris Ryland swirls his scotch in its tulip whiskey glass. The liquid licks the single ice cube's surface with a golden tongue. Round and round he gently works the drink in its vessel until stopping with a sharp twist. He brings the glass to his nose and deeply inhales the seductive aroma. Harris slowly exhales and takes a small sip, rolling the scotch around his mouth until every tastebud is covered. Marvelous. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

It's still dark out and much too early for respectable people to drink, but this is a special occasion and Harris isn't much interested in being respectable. But he is respected, even feared you might say, by his people. And judging from today's news, he can welcome Sue Ellen Ewing into the fold. Everyone's got a job to do in Harris World. He tells them what it is and how to do it. Fall in line, follow simple instructions and life is quite nice for Harris and his minions. For an occasional lapse in good conscience, he gives them things they could not achieve on their own - wealth, independence, happiness and that elusive, insatiable bitch, power. Most everyone is so easily enticed by these things it's hardly any fun luring them. But there's a feisty one now and then, a fool in a super hero cape with a big E for ethics on the chest. And of course the nouveau virtuous who claim they're done behaving badly and commit to the big do over. These are the most fun to hunt because they're already running from themselves.

Sue Ellen Ewing has all three of those qualities and that's why she's such a prize, a terrific trifecta of epic failure on the brink. If Harris tips the scale toward guilt a bit more she'll tumble. She should have let him move money through her PAC. That's child's play compared to bribing the Medical Examiner on a murder case. Harris is happy to know of that mistake, even if his first try at using it against her didn't work. One indiscretion after another peels someone's pretty layers like an onion until, like fruit rotting from the inside out, the stinking core is exposed and there is no more denying they are simply bad souls. May as well make the most of it.

Sitting in his dark study with the heavy black curtains drawn, he stares at his large computer monitor illuminating a distressed Sue Ellen in front of a police car. He enlarges the picture so her face fills the screen. Her eyes are shut tight, head slightly back, hair tousled by the wind and mouth pulled into an open grimace. A glorious glistening tear track runs down her left cheek. What kind of sound was she making, he wonders. Gasping? Sobbing? Whimpering? He hopes gasping. That is the sound of shame and it oozes out of Sue Ellen in this picture. She must have felt so vulnerable on that quiet dark road, ordered out of the car practically at gunpoint. He heard she tried to question authority but was swatted down easily. She looks a hot mess in this photo, not gubernatorial at all. Had she seen it yet? He hopes not. He wants to be alone with messy, scared, crying Sue Ellen for a little while before she's blotted with excuses and rationales for the photo.

Harris brings his face within inches of the screen, leveling his eyes with hers. He inhales, imagining the Chanel perfume he smelled when she humiliated him in his office last week. She'd smiled so confidently after her stunt, he had wanted to snap her neck. Well she's got quite a different expression here for all the internet to see. Raw and small, and breakable indeed.

"Don't cry, Sue Ellen," he says and licks her cheek on the screen. Even Harris is surprised at her effect on him. He laughs and lowers his hand to pleasure himself.

* * *

Mark clicks on the comment form and types, "Maybe we should hold judgement until we get the whole story here. These are just pictures without any context. We don't know she was drunk, people." His anonymous comment appears at the bottom of the list of growing remarks underneath The Dallas Dispatch's piece on Sue Ellen. Who were these people commenting online at 5 in the morning on a Sunday? In any case, mob mentality was taking over. Many of the remarks were sneers and harsh name calling. People sure love to tear others down. He is sad Sue Ellen will read things like, "Once a drunk, always a drunk" and "Even a rich bitch can't buy sobriety LOL!". This is bound to affect her performance at the rally. He really wishes she'd taken his advice and hired a speech writer.

He looks at his neat spreadsheet of media contacts at the ready on the laptop. He's got to send a statement out before the local morning news shows start for any hopes of coverage. It's been nearly 30 minutes since he spoke to Sue Ellen. God, what is she doing? Falling apart? Reading everything online? He should have gone over to speak to her in person. Or is that too familiar? He only just called her by her first name tonight for god sakes. Oh lord. His grandfather clock chiming five is deafening. He walks to the kitchen and shoves an entire Ding Dong into his mouth. One swallow into the gooey cake, his phone rings, naturally.

Mark gulps the Ding Dong down and gags while running for the phone. A hearty cough and swig of hot coffee clears his throat enough for a scratchy, "Hello?"

"It's me," Sue Ellen says. "I'm done."

"Great, great. Tell me what you wrote." Mark listens and takes notes for the next 15 minutes. He puts Sue Ellen on hold and highlights several things on his notes page:

• Silverlake Road, about 11:10 pm, no other traffic seen before test, or heard during with eyes closed  
• Police car had light bar with blue and red strobes, Dallas PD decal on door, unknown plate/unit number  
• Approaches on driver's side  
• No reason given for stop  
• No name tag  
• About 6' tall, brown eyes, dark hair, mustache, left hand on gun  
• Black Latex glove  
• Left before Sue Ellen  
• Heard no picture taking clicks or electronic sounds over the wind  
• Heard no dispatching from the officer's police radio

"Sue Ellen, I'm done highlighting. This is good information. I think I've got enough to move forward. You did great. Really great. I need to ask my brother Boone about some of these things, if you don't mind. We need his police perspective before we call the Department and demand some answers, okay?"

"Okay," Sue Ellen says flatly.

"Uh, well, okay. Alright then. Well…..I said I'd tell you what was going on so - "

"I saw it. The pictures. The, uh, "article". I saw it already. But not until I finished….my….list," Sue Ellen's voice chokes between tears. "I did like…you…said Mark…and I didn't….look before," she sobs.

Mark is frozen on the other end of the phone, one hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry Mark," Sue Ellen struggles to say. "It's just, those comments. Not just the awful pictures…but the things people are….. saying about me…I didn't….I wasn't….I don't know," she cries softly now. "I can't be so sensitive, I know….but it just….hurts."

Mark clears his throat. He wants to reach through the phone and hug her. For once he does not feel inadequate or awkward. At this moment, she is just another human being in pain and he knows exactly how that feels. "Sue Ellen, a lot of people are assholes," he says in a steady voice. "There's nothing brave, or wise, or clever about behaving that way. People like that blow whichever way the wind goes. If it wasn't you, it'd be any other notable person, any other celebrity photographed tonight and picked apart. It's not personal, Sue Ellen. I know it feels like it, but it's not so don't you let it be," Mark says, surprising himself.

"You're right, I know you're right," Sue Ellen nearly whispers. "And I'm stronger than this, how you're hearing me now…I really am," she says, almost pleading. "It's just…looking at those pictures and those awful comments, I felt so…..attacked. And, well, there's no one here to talk to….and I realized…," she starts to cry again, "I don't have anyone to call and listen but my campaign manager….and please, don't get me wrong Mark I'm thankful for you, I really am…But at this point in life I should have family, I should have some good friends to call at four in the morning….and I really don't. So what does that say about me? My own son won't even call me back," Sue Ellen cries hard now.

Everything that seemed so important half an hour ago switches off in Mark's head. He aches for Sue Ellen's anguish and before he knows it he says, "Sue Ellen, I am so sorry. Would you like me to come over and sit with you for a while?"

She is quiet for a moment and then, "No, thank you so much but no. I'll be fine. I'll be just fine by morning," she says determined to push through the shakiness in her voice. "I promise, you won't have to deal with this drama tomorrow," she says and tries to laugh. "I guess I just feel very…..vulnerable now….and that's scary for me."

"Well then let me level the playing field, to quote Lucy," Mark says.

"Lucy?"

"I'm gay, Sue Ellen." A sharp pain slices through Mark's head and his ears enter a vacuum like he's under water for a moment. He flops down on the couch.

"You're - "

"Please don't talk. I may not have the balls to continue in a few minutes. Yes. I'm gay. I have not been able to admit that to anyone but my boyfriend Jason who died four years ago. HIV-related pneumonia. I miss him every minute of every day. I thought I'd lose my mind from the pain, the lies, the guilt, all of it. Still do sometimes. But when I met you and saw how honest you were about your life, how you want to improve healthcare, the darkness lifted from me. I mean it Sue Ellen. Oh the pain's still there, but it's not a black hole anymore. And the harder I work to get you elected, the better chance you have of helping people who need it so badly. So we're gonna forge on past this ridiculous DUI mess and get back to business. Deal?"

"Deal," Sue Ellen says still a little weepy but calming down.

"Now I'm coming over, right now. And we can stare our vulnerabilities down together. I'll call Boone from your place and he may want to speak to you. You can trust him, I think you know that. And then we're going to send the media a statement by 6:30 this morning and shut this shit down…Sue Ellen?"

"Yes, yes I'm here. I just want to say thank you, really, Mark. Thank you for everything you've done….and said. You have no idea how much this means to me. Your mother…she's a lucky woman."

The cruel irony of that statement nearly brings Mark to tears himself. He clears his throat, "See you in a few minutes, Governor." He packs up his laptop, changes into his clothes, grabs the box of Ding Dongs and heads out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

_*Warm greetings! Thank you for continuing to read my story. I'm over the moon that you find it entertaining._

* * *

Mark doubts the imposing lion head door knocker is intended for use. He rings Sue Ellen's doorbell instead. The doormat says "Don't mess with Texas" inside the State's shape. The tall shiny black door opens and Sue Ellen greets him with a hug, a quick little back patter. This must be hard for her. The always elegant and seemingly confident woman is pale and puffy-eyed, wrapped in a blue silk robe. No make-up or jewelry, she looks beyond tired, almost frail. Mark wonders for the first time if she truly is up to the game of politics.

"Hi, come on in. I'm glad you're here," she says with a faint smile. Just the boost he needed.

"Ding Dong?" He offers her the box and instantly regrets it. How stupid. He laughs nervously. "I'm sorry. What can I say, I'm a stress eater."

She smiles, "And a coffee drinker. There's a fresh pot in the kitchen. Help yourself. Pour me a mug too, would you? Just a dash of sugar. We can work in the atrium," she says herding the dogs toward it.

The aroma welcomes Mark in the stately kitchen. He takes two cups off the mug tree and pours. He opens the cupboard above the coffee maker expecting to find sugar but is startled by pill bottles and boxes of medicine stacked nearly to the top. What is this? He thought Sue Ellen only needed one pill a day now. He glances over his shoulder before looking closer at some labels. All prescriptions for her but several years old from what he can quickly see. Why has she kept all this? Sue Ellen's dog Bowie brushing against his legs almost scares him out of his skin. He closes the cupboard and joins her in the atrium.

They go over the incident once more and agree on the most suspicious things to ask Boone about. Mark dials him on his cell and presses the speaker button.

"Hello?" Lucy says.

"Hi Luce, it's Mark. I'm here with Sue Ellen and we need to ask Boone a few questions about what happened. Can you wake him please?"

"Hey there Sue Ellen. Pretty exciting night, huh? I just about died when I saw your face on the internet like that. I mean wow, it - "

"Lucy we don't have a lot of time here. Can you just put Boone on please?" Mark says and rolls his eyes.

"Oh well excuse me, boss man," Lucy says. "Hold your horses, alright?"

"Thank you Lucy," Sue Ellen squeezes in but Lucy is already off the line.

After some long minutes, Boone picks up. "Whatchoo got for me, lil' bro?"

"Morning Boone, sorry for the early wake-up call."

"Naw, no worries. Whatchoo got?" he drawls.

"I'm sitting here with Sue Ellen at her place - "

"Stop right there. Whose phone you on?"

"Mine, why?" Mark asks.

"Good. Listen here, do not connect me and Sue Ellen with phones. You get me?"

"Not really, no," Mark says, dreading what sounds like paranoia.

"Come on you're a smart little shit, Marky. Say this story rolls and the media starts askin' the Police Department about the stop. And say there ain't no record of it, which I can damn near guarantee going off them sick pictures and my professional intuition. What's that look like? A cover up, that's what. Then people gonna ask what needed covering. They're gonna think Sue Ellen _was_ drunk and now the record of it's gone and disappeared. Oh and looky here, her campaign man's brother is a policeman and his wife's her niece. Then Boone gets to talk to them Internal Affairs sumbitches about why there's phone calls between me and Sue Ellen Ewing and how much was I paid to delete the report? And then me and Lucy will be sleeping on your couch when I'm fired."

Sue Ellen and Mark stare at his cell phone on the table. Mark wipes his moistening hands on his pants. "Wow. Okay. I get it. You're right. I'm on board now. I'm uh, I'm just talking to my own brother on my own phone. That cool?"

"That's cool, bro. Go."

Mark describes the incident as Sue Ellen listens. A mere 10 minutes later, he's heard enough.

"This here was a fake stop, yes indeed. Lemme tell you why. One: Never approach the driver's side. Know why? 'Cause you don't know who you're walkin' up on or what they just done. Standard officer safety. Approach the passenger side until determining the subject is clear of wants and warrants, unless you'd like to increase your chances of being shot in the damn face. Don't matter who the plate comes back to, could be an as yet unreported stolen car with the crook driving. This fool come up on Sue Ellen's side 'cause he already knew she was driving. Two: Deserted road. He found Sue Ellen on it 'cause he followed her there. Now do we have ourselves a perv who seen Sue Ellen somewhere and set to stalking her or do we have somebody's operative? That is yet undetermined. Three: No reason for the stop. Absolutely not legit, brother. Upon detaining the subject, which was done without question when he brung her out the car, state the reason for taking the subject's right to leave unless you would like to be sued in a court of law for violating civil rights," Boone pauses.

"Oh well thank you, sugar," he says. Mark and Sue Ellen hear a succession of kisses. "Lucy brought me some coffee, and some _sugar_, hahaha! She loves to hear me talk police. I think it turns her on," Boone says.

"Boone! Focus!" Mark says.

"Right. Right. Okay so, what number was I on?"

"Four," Mark says.

"Oh yeah. Four: No name tag. Not gonna happen. That there's a matter of pride, not just policy. It's your name that earned the badge. The only officer without a name tag is the one who left it off on purpose. Five: Leaving the scene before the traffic stop subject. What's gonna happen if that subject falls over dead with a heart attack right there from the stress of the stop and you're a mile down the road? Their family's gonna come lookin' for pay day from the city of Dallas for endangerment, that's what. Always clear the scene. And let's call this next one five-and-a-half: No dispatches from the officer's radio. It is remotely possible there was no air traffic during the entire stop, but I got a better reason. He didn't have a radio because he wasn't even working," Boone pauses, waiting for their astonishment.

"You hear me? You get it?" Boone asks. Sue Ellen and Mark look at each other. "Okay lemme break it down for ya. You get some gear when you report for duty to log on for service, taser gun, shotgun and _radio_. That stuff don't go home with you like your firearm, cuffs and uniform do. Now sounds like it was a real police vehicle, but that ain't no big thing. One key fits all police cars and we keep those in our lockers. Wouldn't be nothin' to come in on a day off, suit up in uniform after the locker room's cleared out, grab a police car and do this thing. Can't say anyone would even notice. And you were never there as far as dispatch is concerned."

Mark is speechless and Sue Ellen looks furious. How dare that man violate her like that. She knew something wasn't right about him. Instantly she shifts from distraught to determined for revenge. Even the hurtful reader comments from the article stop gnawing at her.

"Hey! Hello? Did I put you to sleep or something?" Boone says.

"No, no," Mark says. "Holy shit, Boone. That's….I'm just - "

"What? Amazed at my supreme intelligence?" Boone laughs heartily. "Well we all shine our own stars, don't we?"

"We sure do. Thank you so much, from both of us," Mark says.

"You bet. Happy I could crack the case. Now I told you what stinks about this, but I sure can't tell you what to do for your campaign. You're on your own there. But I do know what needs doing to uphold the integrity of the law. That black glove, did you touch it Mark?"

"No."

"Good. Keep it that way. Have Sue Ellen put it in a sealed envelop and Mark you drop it by to Lucy ASAP. I'll call in a favor with my crime lab friend. Now mind you, any evidence from it won't be admissible in court because I didn't take the chain of custody, but it might tell us who this rogue officer is. Then I can do my own investigating, see what this is all about on the down low. The Department's gonna look into it if the right people see the story. They'll wanna know the field test results and who gave it. There's no record of it and no officer will come forward. Management might dismiss it as professional courtesy from a nervous officer, Sue Ellen being a public figure and all. But if it heats up, this fella will float me as a scape goat. It's a smart set up, I gotta admit. But I'm smarter, so don't you worry."

* * *

Sue Ellen paces the atrium as Mark types away on his laptop. She stops in front of the east wall of windows. Tapping her black lacquered nails slowly against the glass, she feels like a caged tiger. Well. We will see who becomes the prey and the hunter in the end.

"Sue Ellen? Please, do you mind?" Mark asks, distracted by her nail tapping.

"Oh, of course. Sorry."

She folds her arms and turns back to face the window. What a strange night it's been. She went from a surprisingly enjoyable dinner with JR to a DUI set up to weird rituals and warnings from Ruby to a meltdown on the phone with Mark to right here, watching the daylight pulling at the sky's darkness. Somewhere out there Harris Ryland is relishing her turmoil. He's got to be behind this. She remembers scoffing at JR's warning not to lose the upper hand. What would he do now, she wonders.

"I'm done," Mark calls out to her. She walks over and curls up on the chaise lounge across from him. Crockett lays with his head on Mark's feet. "Alright, I think we need to keep your response focused on being sober, not accusing the police of wrong doing. And I want you to seem like a regular person grateful for officers enforcing safety, not a politician offended by the implications."

Sue Ellen nods her head. "Makes sense," she says and Mark hands her the laptop. After reading the statement she says, "It's good. Really good. I'm comfortable with this."

"Great. Now I'd like to be comfortable too. And telling me who is after you would really help. You owe me that, Sue Ellen. You know more than you're saying."

Sue Ellen looks up from the laptop, surprised at Mark's boldness. His young green eyes hold her gaze, unwavering. She bites her lip, picks up her coffee cup but puts it back down. "It's Harris Ryland. I'm almost sure," she says and looks away.

"What's he want with you? Is it the cold truck stuff I told you about?"

Sue Ellen sighs, unsure how much to disclose but wanting to give Mark the honesty he deserves. "Take a look around this room, Mark. Who do you see in nearly every photograph?" she asks.

"Your son. Wait, your son? Is he…...is Ryland his father?"

"Oh please, no! Absolutely not. I am not, nor have I ever been, attracted to Harris Ryland. Besides, that man is reptilian. I doubt he's capable of creating a baby. He probably eats his young," she says. Mark notes the button he's pushed.

"My son is the center of my universe, Mark. I love him dearly and I'd do anything for him. Anything. And I'm ashamed to say it wasn't always like that." Sue Ellen takes that sip of coffee now, a short delaying of what comes next.

"I got extremely depressed after he was born. His father and I, well, let's just say our marriage was less than blissful. JR and I fought constantly. Being around him felt like airplane turbulence to me, jarring, sinking, unpredictable. I tried to hang on to him, but he pushed me away, and he had his reasons, he did. But the more he loved John Ross, the less it felt like he loved me and I started resenting my baby. He earned JR's love so easily…and I….I started feeling like I was being punished for…" Sue Ellen trails off. Mark sits frozen, he is in uncharted territory now and is starting to look for the exit sign.

As if sensing his apprehension, Sue Ellen regroups. "Anyway, John Ross didn't have the happiest childhood with his parents carrying on like JR and I did. Even so, he turned out to be a fine young man, a good son - "

"I thought you said earlier he wouldn't call you back?"

Sue Ellen dismisses the notion with a wave of her hand, "Never mind that. I was just upset about this DUI mess. He's a good boy. He's just busy, that's all."

John Ross is a spoiled, selfish guy too dumb to see what a loving, devoted mother he has, Mark would like to say at this moment. "Sure, I get that," he says instead. Never attack the family. You'll be the odd man out in the end.

Sue Ellen continues, "So, even though John Ross is all grown up and that parental drama is behind us, I still feel like I need to make it up to him, what I put him through. When he needs help, no matter how old he is, I will always help him, at all costs," she says.

"Okay, well how nice to have a mom like you watching his back but what's this got to do with Harris Ryland?"

"Mark, you're a young man, a smart, kind, capable young man with your whole future ahead of you. I don't want you getting mixed up in something that might tarnish your career and if I tell you everything I know, that just might happen. So you're gonna have to trust me on this and be satisfied with what I will share with you on the matter, understand?"

Mark feels the paradigm shift, Sue Ellen's back in charge and frankly, he's glad of it. "Understood. Man I thought I was curious before. You sure know how to build suspense," Mark says and grabs the last Ding Dong from the box.

Sue Ellen smiles and gets up from the chaise. She stands at the window and continues speaking with her back turned. "A few weeks ago John Ross was in trouble, big trouble, for something he did not do. I saw a chance to make it all go away for him and I took it. I crossed the line. I asked someone, an important someone, to lie about something in return for a favor. Harris found out about it and has tried to blackmail me ever since. He asked to launder money through our PAC and I refused. He's not used to getting no for an answer and you saw his response tonight with that DUI stop, but I didn't realize it at the time."

"A favor? As in a _bribe_?" Mark looks incredulous.

"Mark, what did I tell you? What you don't know can't hurt you. And this favor wouldn't have hurt anyone else, either. So let's just leave it at that."

Mark loudly blows air out of his mouth. He hadn't even tasted that last Ding Dong. "I need a drink. No offense, but really, I need to pound one," he says.

"Sorry, honey. This house is dry," she says, patting him on the shoulder on her way to the kitchen. "Let me put on some fresh coffee. And I'll make you breakfast, okay?"

"Sue Ellen, wait, the cold truck information? You threatened him with it, right? Don't answer that. Let's just say you shared that information with him, and what did you hope would happen?"

"Well honestly, and obviously naively, I hoped he'd just leave me alone. Call it even and leave me alone."

"And he didn't. He came at you in a big way. He's a bully and I really hate bullies," Mark says, making Sue Ellen think of his earlier admission. She wonders if he's been bullied and wants to ask him about it.

"My point is," Mark continues, "you got a rise out of him big enough to orchestrate this fake traffic stop."

"So? I've already shown my cards on the cold trucks," Sue Ellen says.

"Yes but his whole hand is still close to his chest, I'd bet on it. We need to make him fold. I just know there's something huge behind this cold truck stuff and I'm gonna find it," Mark says.

Sue Ellen giggles, delighted. "We make a good team, don't we? Men like Harris Ryland don't give women a lick of credit for anything, especially not revenge. Well I'm happy to school him on that," she says. They clink coffee cups.

"But in the meantime let's deal with the task at hand. Let me get this statement out," Mark says and presses 'send'. Media inboxes all over Texas receive this email:

**SUE ELLEN EWING **  
Dallas Campaign Headquarters  
550 Alamo Road, Dallas TX 75236

April 10, 2012

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

ATTN: Media News Desks  
SUBJ: Statement on Field Sobriety Photos Published Online This Date  
CONTACT: Mark Ellis, Campaign Manager,

I would like to provide some context for photographs of me published online today. I was in fact stopped by a Dallas police officer on my way home last night and given a field sobriety test. I passed the exam and was allowed to continue on my way without further investigation. As many of you know, I once struggled to achieve sobriety but am proud to be alcohol-free for the past 20 years. Although unsettling to have my sobriety challenged, I applaud the Dallas Police Department for working to keep our highways safe and free of drunk drivers. I hope you will agree with me that a few moments of discomfort in the cold night air performing a simple test is certainly worth the safety of Texan motorists.

I am unsure how the photographs of me came to be online, but I would like to thank whoever is responsible for giving me this opportunity to reach out to fellow Texans struggling with their own sobriety. It is a difficult, sometimes overwhelming goal but I encourage you to conquer one day at a time and find no shame in getting the help you need. There is life outside the bottle, and it is quite wonderful I can assure you. Please see below for a list of sober living help groups I endorse. You are not alone and I am your biggest cheerleader.

Your sister in sobriety,  
Sue Ellen Ewing

* * *

The rising sun peaks over Harris Ryland's shoulder. He's been looking at Sue Ellen's DUI internet pictures for nearly half an hour, not something he would easily admit. He clicks back to the article, anxious to see some more venomous reader comments. The article announces an update under the photos. "Statement from Sue Ellen Ewing", it says. Excellent. She's seen them. She's seen her face twisted with fear, her usually controlled composure stripped away in the wind. He did that with just a phone call. Imagine if he took matters into his own hands. She'd be rocking on the floor, broken, unrecognizable to those who hold her in high esteem now. Harris feels a tingle at the very thought.

He pours himself another scotch and begins reading the statement, expecting apologies but hoping for denial. Insisting she was sober will start an investigation. Imagine the surprise when there is no record of the stop. Very suspicious. Harris chuckles and drains his drink.

He stops halfway through the first paragraph, holding the swallow of scotch in his mouth. His eyes narrow as he reads on, not liking the gracious tone of Sue Ellen's message. He swallows his liquor and re-reads one sentence several times, _"I am unsure how the photographs of me came to be online, but I would like to thank whoever is responsible for giving me this opportunity to reach out to fellow Texans struggling with their own sobriety."_

She knows. She knows he's behind this and she is mocking him. Harris hurls his scotch glass against the wall. The glass smashes to pieces and the lone ice cube bounces on the hard wood floor, slowly spinning in a small puddle of itself. He walks over and crushes it under his foot. He looks out the window at the golden morning and inhales deeply. He smooths both hands over his hair and down his neck. Moments later, he pivots on his heels and walks back to the computer. He visits Sue Ellen's campaign website and writes down the location and time of her Fort Worth rally today.

* * *

JR awakens earlier than he'd like to on this Sunday morning. He'd always been an early bird but he has no worms to catch now. Or does he? He promised Sue Ellen a shoulder tap for Harris Ryland and his amateur video blackmail. JR looks at the clock again. Too early to call his contact just yet. Wanting to fall back to sleep, he gets up to pull the drapes completely closed on the bright morning light. Rising from his king sized bed, his back and hip protest with stiffness. The pain makes JR try to stand up even faster. He'll show this old body who's still in charge. His knee joint cracks loudly with its first step.

He stands at the balcony window a moment, gazing out on Southfork basking in the early morning glow. How many hundreds of times had he rushed out the driveway paying no mind at all to this beauty, so anxious to get to the office? What he'd like to do most right now is ride a fine stallion over the ranch's green pastures. Just ride and ride under the shade of his Stetson brim. He laughs softly. Youth truly is wasted on the young. He closes the drapes and turns back to his bed. His empty bed. He sits down at the foot of it, his back turned on the memory of what it felt like to have Sue Ellen laying next to him. Minutes pass before he gets up slowly and walks downstairs.

The house is still quiet. JR makes his way to the kitchen. His note to Carmen about preparing a formal dinner tonight is still undisturbed on the refrigerator. He puts some coffee on and walks to the front door to retrieve the Sunday paper. When Teresa was here, the coffee would be ready and the paper on the table, right in front of Daddy's chair by now. And breakfast would be cooking. What's the help come to? Arriving whenever they damn well please? The help should be here no later than the earliest riser of the family. Just another thing Bobby's let fall by the wayside along with all the other Ewing ways no longer honored in this house.

JR shakes his head and opens the front door. Sue Ellen's crying face is looking up at him from the paper on the ground. He bends down and back up so quickly he wobbles with dizziness for a moment. Steadying himself with one hand on the door jam, he holds the paper up for a close look at the pictures. Good god. What has she gotten herself into?

He sits down at the table with a thud and reads the article. It's definitely Sue Ellen and it's definitely that dress…._that dress_….He reels his mind back in. The article says "a source" sent the pictures shortly after he and Sue Ellen were seen leaving the Omni last night. Well unless she had a couple of pints stashed in the back seat of the Porsche, she didn't have much time to get drunk from straight sober. JR's eyebrows raise as he looks again at the photos. These are crisp, close up shots, no blur whatsoever from a passing vehicle. The officer took these photos, no question. JR's sixth sense kicks in, his blackmail radar strongly pings. This stinks of Harris Ryland.

He looks at the kitchen clock, a silly ceramic number with muffins on the ends of the hour and minute hands and cherries around the numbers. JR grimaces at it. It's 7:30 now, a respectable enough time for that phone call.

"Hello," the groggy voice says on the line.

"Good mornin' Russell! It's your old buddy JR Ewing. Listen I am sorry for waking you this early on a Sunday but - "

"Well god damn if I don't believe my ears, fuzzy as they may be at this ungodly hour. How you doin' JR? I didn't even know you were back around. You at Southfork, or…."

"Yes, yes Russell I sure am. Of course I am. Southfork is still my ranch, don't matter how old these bones get, there's no denying my birthright now is there? Hahaha. Tell that to my little brother, would you?"

Russell laughs. "Well what can I do for you, JR? You, uh, you got somethin' for me?"

"Matter of fact I do, Russell. Say, you still crazy about our Cowboys? Still like to catch a game now and again?"

"Oh you bet, JR. Who don't? Can't say as I go too often, on a trucker's salary and all."

"I understand. I surely do. Well listen here Russell, I think we just may have what they call a win-win situation right here." Russell is quiet. JR can nearly feel the electricity of his anticipation through the phone. Some things never change, thankfully.

"I've got four season tickets to the Dallas Cowboys that'll just go to waste with me. I've got other things need tending to nowadays."

"Uh huh," Russell says.

"So, what do you say I give you those tickets and you take a few of your Union brothers along and enjoy yourselves?"

"Yeah! Yeah okay! I can do that, I can do that real good, JR. Now what can I do for you?"

"I want you to call your contact with the Commercial Enforcement police. I want you to tell him to pay special attention to Ryland Trucking, both inbound and outbound. I think there's some serious violations on our Dallas highways. Tonnage, licensing, all of it. As much as he can, understand?"

"Damn. Who pissed you off, JR? Those violations are expensive sons of bitches. Upwards of forty, fifty thousand for a big overage. This the way you wanna go?"

"That's right. And I wanna go all the way to the line with it. And if your boy keeps it clean and I don't get questions from anyone who matters, he gets ten percent in cash of the total violations written against Ryland Trucking in the next 30 days from me. How you like that?"

"Hell I wish I worked Commercial Enforcement. Shoot."

JR throws his head back and laughs. Nothing like a dirty deal to start the day off right. He walks back to the kitchen, takes the muffin clock off the wall and throws it in the trash.

* * *

It's after 8:30 in the morning. Sue Ellen must be up by now. Her rally's in a few hours. JR checks his cell phone again. No missed calls. He reads her statement online again and smiles. _I tip my hat to you darlin'. That's a good play._ That's the governor talking, but where is Sue Ellen in all this? She must be so upset. She needs help. Why hasn't she asked him for it? He picks up his cell again. He wonders how accurate the missed call feature is. Surely she's called him by now, if not right after the stop itself? Or maybe she's too ashamed….He finds his fingers dialing her personal number.

"This is Sue Ellen. Leave a message and I'll call you back just as soon as I can. Bye bye now."

"Sue Ellen, honey, I saw the paper. That nonsense, the pictures, I am truly sorry darlin'. I know for a fact you were sober as a judge. If you need me to tell anyone that, or do anything for you, anything at all, you let me know Sue Ellen. Ryland's behind this, you probably don't see that but I do. I hate to say I told you so but remember what I said at dinner? He's gonna come back at you if you don't keep the upper hand? Well that's what's goin' on here honey. So you call me when you want my help and I'll send this snake back to the tall grass, cryin' for his mama." JR ends the call. For some reason he could not bring himself to say 'goodbye'.

About an hour later, JR's phone sounds a text message alert. He removes it from his pocket to read what Sue Ellen wrote:

"JR thank you for your kind words. I am alright. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I am handling this. See you tonight at Southfork." Attached to the message is the cell phone picture the waitress took of the two of them.


	13. Mother Texas Chapter 13

Sue Ellen stares at the picture on her phone that she just sent to JR with her text message. She taps it to enlarge JR's face and keeps tapping until just his eyes fill the screen. So many times she'd looked into these eyes that were miles and miles away, thinking of something, or someone, else. In this picture his eyes are totally present. Smile lines crease at their corners but his eyes are swimming in worry. For _her_, not for himself or his oil or any number of other priorities that had trumped Sue Ellen so often. For her. She had just told him of her infection with HIV right before the shot was taken and although she is sad to see him thrown off guard in this picture, she is glad she has it. She admits it, she wants proof that he still cares for her.

Suddenly her cell phone buzzes with John Ross's picture. Finally!

"Hello darlin', how are you doing?"

"Hey Mama. I'm good. You?

"Well I'm great now that I'm hearing my favorite voice in the whole world. I was starting to worry about you, honey. I left a message for you days ago, you know."

"Yeah, yeah I know. You worry too much, Mama. I just been real busy, that's all."

"Well tell me! What have you been doing? I wanna hear all about it….John Ross?"

"Yeah I'm here. I, uh, well I've been spending a lot of time with Elena, helping her with her drilling research. That kind of thing."

"Oh is that right?"

"Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what, honey?"

"Like you don't believe me, or you're making fun of it, or her,…..Elena."

"Why wouldn't I believe you, John Ross? And I happen to like Elena. I'm not making fun of her. What's yanking your chain this morning?"

"Nothing! Nobody! I just care a lot about Elena and I don't want anyone disrespecting her, especially not my family."

Sue Ellen raises her eyebrows. "Well. How nice that you're so concerned about Elena's feelings," she says and then sighs. "John Ross, sweetheart, I'm happy if you're happy. And I'm glad you and Elena are working together on this project. She's smart, you're both smart. I'm sure great things will come of it. Now, why don't you bring her with you to Fort Worth today?"

"Fort Worth?"

Sue Ellen's shoulders drop and she steels herself for excuses, again. "Yes, Fort Worth, John Ross. My rally? Remember? You said you would come. Are you not coming?"

"Oh. Mama, listen, I don't - "

"John Ross, this is important to me. There are reporters coming this time and maybe you haven't been online yet today but, well - "

"Oh, oh I get it. You want smiling family pictures for the cameras."

"No, John Ross please - "

"Well I can't go Mama. You know why? 'Cause Daddy shot out my tire last night in a drunken fit so I don't have a car."

"What? What did you say?"

"That's right. JR came over here at 11 o'clock at night and banged on my door like a maniac. When I didn't open it fast enough, he shot my car tire. Crazy son of a bitch."

"Watch your mouth, John Ross."

"Oh, right. It's a perfectly normal to pound your son's door down in the middle of the night just because he hasn't called his mother back yet."

"Stop. Just stop," Sue Ellen says and shakes her head at what she's hearing. "JR went to your house? After we had dinner? And…told you to call me?"

John Ross stays quiet, realizing he's cheapened his call.

"John Ross you, you enjoy your Sunday and I'll see you tonight at Southfork for dinner."

"Mama, wait - "

Sue Ellen hangs up before he can hear the hurt in her voice.

* * *

Mark arrives at campaign headquarters nearly two hours before everyone else. Sue Ellen and the rest of the staff won't be there until 10:30 to travel to Fort Worth in the campaign bus. He loves that bus. He looks out at it in the parking lot, "Sue Ellen Ewing 2013" in big red script on the side panel. He feels like he really is part of something when he's on it, accepted and included in a way he's never experienced in all his life. Mark claps his hands in front of his face, snapping himself back to the task at hand.

Harris Ryland's goon police officer didn't happen upon Sue Ellen by chance. Someone told him where she'd be and when. And Mark is here to find out who. He follows the hunch he's had from day one and walks straight to Aubrey's desk. He tries each desk drawer, all locked. Even so, he is exhilarated. He'd never so much as touch a pen on Aubrey's desk a week ago.

"That's right!" he shouts to the air. "Like a boss!" He heard that expression in a rap song last week and thought if he ever had the chance, he'd really like to use it.

He sits in Aubrey's chair, both hands on the arm rests, and scans her desk slowly from left to right. Nothing jumps out at him. As a long shot, he pushes the redial button on her desk phone. Voice mail for a nail salon. He takes one of Aubrey's green Post Its and writes the number on the screen down anyway. There's got to be something here, he's just not seeing it. Or maybe that's it? What's not here?

He looks at Aubrey's desk and cubicle again, this time searching for what's missing. She's the social media expert for the campaign yet her office area is far from social. There are no personal items, nothing that distinguishes the desk as hers aside from her obsession with the color green. Except one picture in a frame. A green frame but still, a personal photo. She'd married just before joining the campaign and this must be her husband. What kind of man wants to spend the rest of his life with a cold bitch like Aubrey? Mark holds the picture up to his face. A beautiful couple indeed. Aubrey and her lover sit on a large rock in front of the ocean at sunset. She rests her left hand with its big shiny wedding ring on her tanned thigh and curls her other arm around the man's broad shoulders, her right hand hanging casually around his neck.

Mark feels a pang of jealousy. Look at this couple so relaxed and at home in each other's arms. He puts his thumb over Aubrey's face. Wait a minute. Mark looks closer at her right hand. Pink nail polish? Aubrey has never sported anything but a French manicure as long as she's worked here, just like her left hand in the picture. Boom. This picture is altered. That is neither her right hand nor her husband. But why the fake picture?

First things first. Mark files the question away for later and runs to the copy machine with the photo. He returns the frame to her desk and heads out to his car to put the photocopy in his glovebox. A little paranoia can go a long way, he laughs to himself. Once back in the office, he turns on his computer and accesses Sue Ellen's calendar which Aubrey was in charge of last week while he worked on researching Ryland. And there it is, "Dinner with JR, Omni, 8 pm". Sue Ellen must have made that entry herself. Aubrey knew. Ryland knew. Now that Mark has the dots, all that's left is connecting them.

* * *

Sue Ellen looks herself over in her dressing room mirror. The white pantsuit is elegant but understated enough for an afternoon rally under the blazing Texas sun. The suit jacket hugs her slim torso, its sparkly gold buttons fastened over a white lace camisole slightly visible near the top. She steps into matte gold four-inch peep toe pumps and wiggles her French manicured toes into place.

And now her favorite part of dressing, choosing adornments. She opens her magnificent black java wood jewelry armoire, nearly as tall as she is. So many pieces shine brilliantly against the red velvet lining, all with stories to tell. She eventually chooses a heart shaped diamond pendant on a platinum chain, one of the more modest items in her collection but among the most sentimental. In her memory, she replays the moment John Ross gave it to her 13 years ago on her birthday. A soft smile spreads across her lips. She fingers the pendant gingerly. John Ross won't be at the rally but she will have him close this way. He is her good luck charm, that beautiful, smart, ambitious boy, her finest creation. She still marvels that something so vibrant and strong came out of her when she was nearly completely broken. She has JR to thank for that in one way. He did commit her to that sanitarium and save her from herself, for a little while anyway.

Before she goes too far down memory lane, she closes the armoire and opens a bedroom window to clear her head with some fresh morning air. Down below and across the dividing wall is Ruby's houseman Paul Two working in the garden. The sun already basks him in 90 degrees and sweat drenches his dark shirt from neck to waist, but he works diligently and he is singing. He moves in rhythm to what sounds like a hymn, hoeing back and forth. If Sue Ellen were Ruby, she'd bring him a cold drink, poor man. But Ruby thinks labor "cleanses the soul". She must think Paul Two is awfully dirty to have him gardening in this heat.

He finishes with the hoe and walks to the tomato patch, wiping his soaking face with a handkerchief. After a minute of searching, he pulls a big bright red tomato from the vine and holds it up to the sun with a big smile. "Thank you!" he says to the sky. Sue Ellen gasps slightly at what she just saw. Who does that? Takes a minute to thank nature for its bounty? A humble man does. A simple life with simple pleasures. Could Paul Two be richer than she is?

She turns away from the window, feeling uncertain but inspired. These are the people she wants to talk to in Fort Worth today, the hard working, simple living folks who appreciate everything and expect nothing. The strong but quiet ones at the back of the line, the bottom of the ladder. She sees them and she wants to give them a voice. She walks to her desk to rewrite her rally notes. While passing the mirror, she pauses. Does this look like an inclusive woman who speaks for everyone? The designer pantsuit and fancy shoes say no. This is Texas. She is proud to be a Texan and she's going to look like it. Sue Ellen changes into fitted Levi jeans. A black leather belt sits low on her hips, a large brass buckle anchors it with a bull's head and two horns made of bone. She chooses a red western shirt embroidered with black roses. A black nylon fringe runs along the sleeves and over the shoulders. She fastens the mother of pearl buttons, tucks the shirt in and shimmies the fringe back and forth in the mirror. She pulls on a pair of her favorite Leddy boots from Abilene, black leather shaft with deep dips, elaborate stitching, red alligator vamps faded from wear and capped with a small silver star on each foot. Bingo. She feels Texas from head to toe.

* * *

JR scowls at Sue Ellen's text message. She is "handling this"? How can she possibly go up against Ryland? His latest stunt crossed the line. Good thing JR's quite comfortable on the other side of it. That pale snake Ryland needs to be dealt with man-to-man. Let Sue Ellen think she's in the captain's chair, no harm in that. And let Ryland think so too. Fool thinks he's king of the world. When JR's people start squeezing him come Monday, he's gonna know different.

Bobby and Ann descending the stairs end JR's brooding.

"Mornin' JR," Bobby says and pats him on the back. Ann smiles tightly.

"Well hello you two lovebirds. Finally rollin' out of your nest, huh? Well I sure hope you're not hungry. No breakfast made yet and no coffee either. What time's that Carmen come in anyway?"

"We're perfectly capable of making our own breakfast, JR," Ann says. "And there are always muffins right here on the counter."

"Muffins? Muffins are for old ladies' tea parties. Cowboys eat meat, honey. Steak, bacon, chops, side of eggs, hash browns. No wonder Bobby's become the size of a teenage boy, you need to learn how to feed a man. And Ewing men like to eat, darlin', all Ewing men, so why don't you fix me a plate of bacon and eggs since the help's not here to do it," JR says.

Ann glares at JR. "Absolutely not. Who do you think you -"

"Annie," Bobby says. "Please. Could you just fix him some breakfast this once. JR's not to be trusted in the kitchen, he's libel to burn the house down." Bobby coughs, "Bad joke."

Ann starts to speak but Bobby holds up his hand and goes to her. He wraps his arms around her and whispers, "Please Annie. Do it for me. We'll get Carmen coming in earlier since JR's home now and gets up at the crack of dawn, apparently." He kisses her on the forehead tenderly.

JR smiles. "Bring it out on the patio when you're done," he says. "Nothing like starting the day with some good food in the fresh air."

Ann rolls her eyes at Bobby and starts gathering the items to cook for breakfast. She takes the wrapper off a package of bacon and throws it in the trash. What's her kitchen clock doing in there?

Ann sets the breakfast plate down in front of JR with a thud. A bit of scrambled eggs falls off onto the glass patio table.

"Oh now look there. You spilled some. Get me a napkin, would you honey?" JR says to Ann. She squints at JR, opens her mouth but closes it without a word. She pivots on her heel and heads back to the kitchen.

Bobby glares at JR from across the table and leans in, "I know what you're doing, JR. Stop it."

"I don't know what you mean, Bobby. Whatsa matter?"

"You're trying to push Annie's buttons, seems just for the fun of it. Now stop pestering her, I mean it. She's my wife and I want you to respect her."

"Respect her? She'll earn my respect when she shows me some. And that's that."

Bobby shakes his head. "Look, I know Southfork's changed since you last lived here and maybe that's hard to accept but one thing's the same JR, we're family and we need to get along, not look for a fight at every opportunity. We should support each other, especially at this point in our lives, JR. If nothing else, we owe that to Mama and Daddy."

JR's expression softens and he gazes out at the long Southfork drive, the arch bearing the ranch's initials off in the distance. "You know Bob, I half expect to see Mama comin' up the drive at any moment." He smiles wistfully at the thought of her. "I sure do miss her," he says and clears his throat.

"I know you do," Bobby says and remembers overhearing JR ask Miss Ellie for help in the dining room last night. "I miss her to, JR. And Daddy. Every day."

Ann returns with napkins and mugs of coffee for her and Bobby. She tosses a napkin next to JR's plate. "Here. You want me to spoon feed you too?"

JR laughs. "Hell no, darlin'. I wouldn't let you near my face with a utensil. I think you've got a little temper. You might stab me in the eye with a fork," JR says with a wink. "I'll tell you what though, I would like some coffee. Would you get me a cup, please?" he asks just as Ann sits back down.

"I'll get it," Bobby says and goes to the kitchen. JR takes a big bite of eggs. As he chews, Ann glances back at the open sliding glass doors and scoots her chair close to JR.

"Who do you think you are running Bobby and me around like this, waiting on you hand and foot? Let me tell you something, JR, you may have been king of the castle once but that was a long time ago. This is Bobby's ranch now and I'm his wife. He wants me to be happy and if you living here gets in the way of that, you just might find yourself somewhere else, if you know what I mean."

JR swallows his eggs, smiles and snatches Ann's wrist in a tight grip of his hand. "Now you listen to me," he says. "That's the second time today you've asked me who I think I am. I'm JR Ewing, honey. First born son of the man who built the roof over your head, drilled the oil that put the mink coat on your back and raised the cattle that feeds your big mouth. Now that we've cleared that up, just who are you _Annie_?"

"What do you mean?" Ann says, trying to pull her wrist away.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're hiding something, yes sir. I don't know what it is just yet, but I'm gonna find out," JR says with a smile and releases her wrist just as Bobby returns with a steaming mug of coffee.

"Here you go, JR."

"Ah thank you little brother. These old bones are mighty stiff in the morning. I appreciate you fetchin' that for me." Ann slowly scoots her chair away from JR.

"Now, I have an announcement for the two of you," JR says. Ann looks at Bobby who looks at JR. "This ranch is missing the family spirit that was so important to Mama and Daddy. It feels like nothing more than a bed and breakfast now, not a home. And certainly not a Ewing home, no thanks to your interesting decor, Ann."

"JR - " Bobby interrupts.

"Alright, alright. Never mind that," JR says. "What's important is I intend to bring the Ewing spirit back to Southfork starting with our family dinners. Now I know everyone's got things to do but come Sundays time will stop and every Ewing within a stone's throw of this ranch will be here for dinner at 6 pm sharp, no exceptions."

"What?" Ann says. "The whole family doesn't live here anymore, thankfully. Expecting everyone to come here for dinner every week is just not practical".

"This is and never was about being practical, Ann," JR says. "This is a Ewing tradition, one of many that we all enjoyed long before you showed up here and laid claim to this ranch, godammit!" JR says and pounds his fist on the table.

"JR! You calm down right now!" Bobby says.

"This family's goin' down the river, Bobby! And I'll be damned if I let it slip away without a fight. Now either agree with me on this or get out of my way. This dinner is happening with or without you. But what would Mama think to see your empty chair? Huh? You think she'd like that?"

Bobby sighs. "No, of course not." He looks at Ann with eyes pleading for agreement. "Annie, it's true. We used to eat dinner together every night, all of us right here at Southfork. And to tell you the truth, it was a nice connection with each other, most of the time." Bobby smiles at JR.

"Well it's settled then!" JR says and rises from the table. "Thank you for a delicious breakfast, Ann. You're every bit as good as the help, I couldn't even tell the difference," he says and walks inside.

Bobby reaches out for Ann's hand and she gives it reluctantly. "He's taking over, Bobby. You give an inch and he's gonna take 10 miles. You better not let him get out of hand."

Bobby kisses Ann's hand and says, "Oh come on, Annie. He's just an old man now, sentimental for family traditions. What's the harm?"

"He's an old rabid dog, is what he is. And he's sniffing around waiting for the right moment to bite you in the jugular," Ann says and pulls her hand away.


	14. Chapter 14

_Hello everyone! Really enjoying the reviews. To Megan, the notion that my story makes you think of original Dallas put me over the moon. That's quite a compliment and I'm humbled, thank you very much._

* * *

Three hard knocks on the front door of Elena's cottage startle her. She's hardly presentable this early in the morning. She puts her mug of tea down, tightens the robe around herself and smooths her hair as she passes the mirror above the coat rack by the front door. Three more knocks.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she calls out. She pulls the curtain back on the small window in the door and quickly lets it fall closed again.

"Now don't be shy, honey. It's just me," JR says behind the closed door. It opens slowly seconds later.

"JR," Elena says, looking uncertain. "What's the matter? Is John Ross alright?"

"Oh I suppose he is. You haven't heard from him this mornin', I take it?"

"No. I haven't talked to him since you threw me out of his condo last night."

JR smiles. "I'm sorry about that honey. Just bad timing I guess. Listen, I'd like to invite you to our family dinner tonight since it seems John Ross hasn't asked you yet. How about that?" JR chuckles. "Six o'clock sharp in the dining room. Cocktails at 5:30 in the den, if you like. And uh, dress for the occasion, would you? Leave your stable clothes in the closet, okay?"

Elana smirks. "Believe it or not, I know how to dress for Sunday dinner. See you at 6," she says and closes the door in his face.

JR tips his hat to the closed door and walks back to the main house. He looks up at the bright blue cloudless sky and sighs contently. _It's a beautiful day for an eviction._

* * *

"Hey babe," John Ross says into his cell phone, stifling a yawn.

"John Ross, what's going on? JR just came over here and invited me to dinner at Southfork tonight. He called it 'our family dinner'. What's he up to?"

John Ross laughs. "Nothin'. He's just an old man stuck in the past, is all. A hundred years ago, our whole family would sit down to dinner every night at 6 o'clock and they'd yap about their days and the business."

"And my Aunt Teresa would prepare a meal for all those people every night?" Elena asks.

"Yeah. I guess. We had more help than they do now, not just one maid, uh, oh - "

"That's okay, don't worry. I'm not ashamed of what my mother does for a living. She works hard and I'm proud of her. It's not an easy job, you know. Your family can be…"

"Assholes? No, you don't say?"

"Demanding is what I was thinking. Anyway, I'm surprised he invited me. After all, I'm just the help's daughter, right?"

"Of course not. You're my girl, Elena. Who cares what JR thinks? I sure don't."

"Then why didn't you invite me?"

"Aw come on, babe. Why would you want to go to this stupid dinner? Everyone's just gonna pretend they're happy to be there. JR's even got my Mama coming. This is just gonna be another deal where the Ewings fake getting along."

"You know you should make more of an effort with your family," Elena says. "Bobby and Ann have always been nice to me. You're lucky you know, to have so many people who love you, especially Sue Ellen, John Ross. It's obvious how much she adores you. Speaking of her, what time are you leaving for Fort Worth?"

"I'm not."

"What do you mean? You're not going to her rally?"

"Nope."

"John Ross! She was counting on you to be there. You should go support her."

"Hey JR shot out my tire last night, remember? Right after he told you to leave."

"But what's that got to do with your Mother? That wasn't her fault. I really think you should go, John Ross. If you need a ride, I'll take you."

"I already told my Mom I couldn't make it because JR flattened my tire so - "

"You're playing them against each other. Why?"

"No I'm not. It's what happened, isn't it? And even if I were, big deal? My whole childhood was one big chess game between them with me as the pawn. So who cares if I give them a little payback now and then?"

Elena stays quiet.

"Ah you wouldn't understand anyway," John Ross says.

"Maybe not, John Ross. But I do understand that you're an adult now and it's time to stop keeping score. No one's getting any younger. One day you're going to regret playing these games and it might be too late to do anything about it. I'll see you tonight at 6."

* * *

Aubrey arrives at Sue Ellen's campaign office feeling excited, almost - dare she say - giddy. And Aubrey is about as far from giddy as someone can get. Earlier this morning she read all the coverage of Sue Ellen's DUI stop and her subsequent response which was so obviously Mark talking. She can't wait to get a look at Sue Ellen today. Surely she's going to be a nervous wreck for the rally in the wake of this bad press, perhaps even a weepy mess. One can only hope. In any case, Aubrey's made her father proud and that's not easy to do. So it's a good day indeed.

She looks at herself in the mirrored walls of the elevator and wipes the smile off her face, replacing it with a look of concern. By the time the doors open and she steps into the campaign office, she looks every bit the sympathetic staffer ready for marching orders. She rounds the corner of her cubicle and looks across at Mark's office. His blinds are up and she sees him on the phone. She has to stifle a laugh. He must be near the edge over this fiasco. She's never met such a nervous little man in her whole life. He's so over his head here. Idiot.

Aubrey pulls her desk chair back and suddenly stops. The small green Post-It note she leaves sticky side up on her chair every night is gone. Someone has sat in her chair. Why? Still standing, she slowly scans her desk left to right. Nothing looks out of place. She moves her mouse and her computer monitor displays her log-on screen asking for her password, just as she'd left it on Friday. She quickly tries all her desk drawers. Still locked. What is she missing here? She picks up her desk phone receiver and pushes the redial button. Her nail salon voice mail answers. Out of ideas, she sits down and logs on to the office server. Over the top of her monitor, she sees Mark ending his call.

"So," Aubrey says in Mark's doorway, "busy night? You must be exhausted."

"Morning, Aubrey," Mark says with a big smile. "No, I'm good. Really good, actually. Sue Ellen and I were able to get out in front of that ridiculous story this morning. And it's pretty much died out, I'd say. Wouldn't you?"

"Well it's still all over the web. And on people's minds. I don't know how you gauge something so damaging as 'died out' so soon after it happened. But I guess you're the expert, right?"

"Actually, no. You're the social media coordinator for this campaign, so I'd say that makes you the expert. But we didn't hear a word from you so I stepped up. Where were you on this?"

"Where was I? I was in my bed sleeping at 3 o'clock in the morning like every other normal person whose job isn't their whole fucking life." Aubrey walks into Mark's office, slides his phone over and sits on the side of his desk. The phone receive falls off its cradle and dangles off the edge by the cord. She crosses her long legs covered in black nylons with a faint fishnet pattern and her tight gray skirt rises halfway up her thighs. "I woke up at 7, checked my Google alerts and saw your email telling me to butt out, so I did. You're the boss, right? I did what you told me to do. So why are you fucking with me right now?". Aubrey's red lips curl into a smile. She looks for Mark to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants any moment now. This is so much fun.

Mark stands up. "Get off my desk," he says. "And don't use foul language with me. You get one pass and you just used it. Do it again and I'll take it further. Got it?". Now Mark smiles.

Aubrey stands up, looking shocked, then puzzled. "Did you take a self esteem class or something?" she says and pushes her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit Mark's only seen a few times. Aubrey turns to walk away but stops, looking down near Mark's chair. She bends down and picks up a small green Post-It note. "Drop this?" she asks, staring straight into Mark's eyes. He shrugs. She crumples the note tightly and drops it into his trash can on her way out of his office.

* * *

Sue Ellen's campaign bus glistens in the sun as she drives into her office building parking lot. She stops her car and takes in the sight. That's her name on the side of that bus. It's taken a good long while but she finally knows exactly what that name stands for and she wants the voters to know, too. This is going to be a great rally. She feels unstoppable.

She recognizes quite a few cars already in the lot. She's grateful to have such a dedicated staff supporting her. Unknowingly she touches John Ross's pendant as she walks to the building. Just as she reaches the first floor door, Aubrey opens it for her.

"Good morning, Sue Ellen. I'm so sorry about the press. Mark told me he'd handle it and not to contact you. I felt so helpless. Are you alright?" she asks and takes Sue Ellen's arm.

"Oh thank you, honey. Yes, I'm okay. I'll admit, I was surprised by that officer and downright angry to see those pictures all over the internet but this is politics, isn't it? People are going to come after me whenever and however they can," Sue Ellen says. "We better get used to it."

Aubrey gasps. "Is that what you think this was? Someone coming after you? Who would do that? Well that just scares me to death, the thought of somebody wanting you harm."

Sue Ellen opens her mouth, then closes it and smiles. She shakes her head and says, "Don't you worry, darlin'. I'm not that easily shaken. In fact, I'm not letting go of this incident so easily. I think we just might have some answers soon." She and Aubrey walk into the office arm-in-arm. Aubrey waves at Mark as they pass his office.

* * *

Ruby gives Paul Two the keys to her classic 1961 Bombay blue Cadillac DeVille. Just as he takes them from her, she squeezes his hand hard. His fingers hurt much more than they should in the grip of an old lady.

"You get there good and early and you watch that front row. When all the seats fill up you walk by real slow and play like you're lookin' for someone. You get a good look at every face in that front row at Sue Ellen's rally, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am," he says. "Just like I heard the first time you told me."

"You hold that tongue of yours or I'll cut it right out your mouth," Ruby says.

Paul Two laughs out loud. "Miss Ruby, we both know you ain't gonna do that. You would miss my singing too much."

Ruby turns away but Paul can see her smile in the kitchen window's reflection. Early morning sunlight streams into the room as he finishes mixing the Bloody Mary and hands her the tall, chilled glass with a frown. She takes it with both hands and ignores his expression.

"More Tabasco, dammit," she says after one sip and shoves the glass back at him.

"What you trying to do, Miss Ruby? Breathe fire?"

"What I am trying to do is enjoy my morning juice despite your best efforts to ruin it for me. It's a good thing you are moderately useful in other ways else you'da been back on a banana boat in Gee-may-cah a long time ago," Ruby says and looks out the window at Sue Ellen's house.

Paul shakes the little Tabasco bottle into the Bloody Mary faster and faster as Ruby talks.

"Now straight to Fort Worth and straight back, boy. You hear? And treat my blue bird real careful. She gets but a scratch on her in your care and you're gonna pay dearly. I'd ruther you come back all scratched up then her. Understand?"

Paul cocks his head at Ruby, a mixture of amusement and bewilderment on his face.

"Tell me this," he says and slides the spicy Bloody Mary to her over the counter. "If you think I'm so careless, why send me all the way over there in your special Cadillac car? Let me take the truck and give us both some piece of mind," Paul says and shakes his head. He throws the dish sponge into the stainless steel sink and water drops spatter the window above it.

Ruby rolls her eyes. "You see there? You see how you are? Chrissakes. Believe me I wouldn't let you drive around this block in my blue bird if it was up to me but it ain't." Ruby throws her hands in the air.

"Well then, who is it up to?" Paul asks and rips a paper towel off the roll to clean the window.

Ruby looks at him in total disbelief. "The Lord, you dumb ass. Who else would you possibly think I'd take orders from?"

Paul stops wiping the glass and snaps his head back to Ruby. Her blue eyes gleam, her long white hair pulled high atop her head in elaborate twists and curls seems bright as fresh snow. He squints and his mouth falls open but nothing comes out.

Ruby continues, "I got nudged, that's all there is to it. Now you got to draw someone out the crowd and my blue bird's gonna help you do it. That's all I know. Don't need to know nothing else, neither. You best follow my example and stop askin' questions. Just do what you're told, boy. And get a damn good look at them people in the front row!" Ruby yells as she walks to the parlor, Bloody Mary in one hand, bible in the other.

* * *

Aubrey doesn't leave Sue Ellen's side for the entire ride to Fort Worth aboard the campaign bus, talking incessantly and laughing too often. Her green cat eyes dart back and forth from Sue Ellen to Mark, making sure he sees her victory. When Sue Ellen walks toward the back to use the restroom, Mark pounces.

"Aren't you gonna follow her in there?" he asks Aubrey.

"What kind of a sick crack is that?"

"Don't play dumb. I see what you're doing. And frankly, you have good reason to be worried," Mark says, rolling the dice.

Her smirk relaxes slightly and her eyes narrow.

"I don't know what your problem is with me, Mark, but you better back off before I complain to Sue Ellen," she says and smiles. "You don't want me to do that, trust me."

"No, you've got that backwards. You don't want _me_ complaining to Sue Ellen," Mark says and winks. He's not even a winker and he doesn't know who this is speaking through his mouth right now but they sure sound great. He leans his elbow on the headrest of Aubrey's seat and bends down to her, "You know exactly what my problem is with you, Aubrey, or whatever your name is."

Aubrey pauses for a minute, then counters. "Whatever you think you're on to, you're wrong. And whatever clout you think you have with Sue Ellen, mine trumps it by a long shot in a way you can't touch no matter how hard you try, and you sure do try don't you?"

She stands up from her seat and comes within inches of Mark's face. She whispers, "You see, I'm an abused woman, Mark, just like Sue Ellen. That's a very exclusive club; men not allowed. And in your case, I use that term loosely." She speaks normally now, "So, save yourself the trouble and stop snooping around my desk," she says and winks back.

The restroom door opens. Aubrey and Mark both look at Sue Ellen and smile.

She walks down the aisle to them. "This is going to be a special rally, I just feel it. I really do. And I want to say thank you again, to both of you, for helping me get here, to this point in the campaign," she says and looks at Mark. Sue Ellen puts an arm around each of them and squeezes tight. Aubrey pats Sue Ellen's hand. Mark smiles but Aubrey's voice replays in his head, 'stop snooping around my desk'.

A large crowd of news reporters in the parking lot as the bus pulls in turns his attention away from his panic.

"Whoa, I expected some local affiliates but what's all this?" Mark says. "It can't be for the DUI story all the way out here – "

"I thought you said that's already died out, Mark," Aubrey says.

Mark wants to stuff the bottle of water he's holding into her mouth.

Aubrey shakes her head. "I was afraid of this. You really should have let me help, Mark. This is a terrible way to start the rally, in the shadow of a DUI scandal," she says and touches Sue Ellen's shoulder.

Sue Ellen holds up her hand but Mark continues. "Scandal? Sue Ellen wasn't drunk. There's no cover up. That's hardly a scandal. It was a random stop and we responded in kind. So what's the problem?" Mark says.

Aubrey raises her voice, "The 50 microphones out there with no prepared statement in here is the problem! What are you gonna do, just read off the press release they've already seen?"

"What is going on with the two of you?" Sue Ellen says as the bus comes to a stop. "We're on the same team, remember? Now look out this window. That's a gold mine of publicity and I couldn't be happier to see it. Have you both so little faith in my ability to think on my feet that the sight of a few reporters has you shaking in your boots? Well, my boots are steady and ready to ride. So collect yourselves and let's take advantage of this."

Aubrey and Mark are speechless. They both look down at Sue Ellen's silver star-tipped red and black boots.

"Mark, what channel was the one that responded to the media call?" Sue Ellen asks.

"Channel 8, Fort Worth local," Mark says and looks out window. "There. I see their van. They're here."

"Go out there right now and invite them into the bus. Everyone else can have at me after the rally but not one question before. Tell them if they stick around, it's open season after. I'll take any question."

Mark and Aubrey talk over each other's advice against this.

"Stop!" Sue Ellen shouts. "Whose name is on this bus?"

"Yours," Mark says.

"It's a rhetorical question, Mark, god," Aubrey says and shakes her head.

Sue Ellen shoots Aubrey a steely look. "That's right, my name. Not yours. Now I told you how I want this handled, so handle it Mark."

"Yes ma'am," Mark says and looks down, feeling like his old and unwelcome self again.

Aubrey smiles triumphant and puts an arm around Sue Ellen.

"And Aubrey?" Sue Ellen says.

"What can I do to help, Sue Ellen?"

"You could have monitored social media the entire drive over here instead of chatting me up six ways to Sunday. Have you even checked our Facebook or Twitter in the last few hours?"

Aubrey drops her arm from Sue Ellen's shoulders and swallows hard. "I, um, I'm just excited about the rally, that's all. I'm sorry if I annoyed you," she says and makes her chin quiver. It shakes so unnaturally Mark wants to laugh out loud at the feigned emotion. All is not lost, thankfully.

Aubrey grabs her tablet from the seat. She tucks her hair behind one ear. There it is. She's thrown off and trying to recover.

Mark strikes. "Yes please check before I go out there, Aubrey. Is there anything I should know?" He bites his lower lip so hard to keep from laughing that he tastes blood.

She ignores him and looks intently at the tablet, searching Facebook and Twitter posts. Her eyes stop and widen.

"Well?" Sue Ellen says.

"Yes. Okay. It might be nothing to get anxious about but - "

"What?" Mark interrupts.

"Well there is a tweet from the Fort Worth chapter of MADD, Mothers Against Drunk Driving, wanting a response from Dallas PD on the results of your field sobriety test, and….Dallas PD said that there is no record of the stop," Aubrey says and looks authentically shocked.

"Oh fan-tas-tic," Mark says. "What time was the MADD tweet sent?"

Aubrey looks pained. "Almost four hours ago."

"And silence from us," Mark says. "Really, Aubrey? Really? Unbelievable. So that's why they're all here. They want a statement." Mark's heart is pounding in his ears.

Sue Ellen crosses her arms and looks out the window at the growing media crowd whose camera people are now training their lenses on the bus. Aubrey touches Sue Ellen's forearm, "I'm sorry Sue Ellen. I want so much to do a good job for you and I screwed up on this. I'm so sorry," she says.

Sue Ellen stares at her for a moment. "Listen to me, both of you. I'm no delicate flower that needs constant tending," she says and removes Aubrey's hand from her arm. "I might look like a Texas rose but I've got thorns. So approach with caution. Now get Channel 8 on this bus, Mark," she says, smooths her hair and sits down with a relaxed smile.


	15. Chapter 15

The Channel 8 reporter almost trips down the steps of Sue Ellen's campaign bus as she and her camera man hurry back to their van. As they part the crowd of media people huddled near the bus with microphones at the ready, they shout at her, "What did she say?"

She wants to laugh at the absurdity of that. Like she's going to stop and share the first scoop of her career? On a notion, she stops and looks back at the bus. Sue Ellen Ewing is standing at a window watching the commotion. She smiles at the reporter and gives her a thumbs up. The reporter waves at her. What a brilliant play, she thinks. This woman's not just a pretty face after all.

"Why'd you get the interview?" another reporter yells to her.

"Because we were polite."

"Huh? Polite? You're an affiliate. Not even network."

"No matter. We're the only station that responded to her media call for this here rally. The same one all y'all got and ignored," she says. The question asker rolls his eyes.

"Let's face it, Hank. None of y'all would be here if it weren't for that DUI story. Kind of refreshing she recognizes that."

"Come on, Tonia. Let's get this edited and serve it while it's hot," her camera man says. "You sure you don't know Sue Ellen Ewing outside of this? You gotta make any kind of disclosure or something?" he asks as they approach their van.

"Nope. Never met her. She's just a Southern belle, Jim, a Daughter of the Alamo, and she does like her manners. That's all there is to it," she says and they smile at each other.

* * *

Harris Ryland chooses his clothes carefully. He passes the Italian suits and expensive ties hanging just so in his large mahogany walk-in closet and instead selects a pair of beige cotton slacks, a plain white button down shirt and a tan linen sports coat. He wants to draw Sue Ellen's attention at this ridiculous rally and no one else's. He dresses and checks the time. Right on schedule. He's leaving early enough to sit in the front row, right under her nose. She'll appreciate the nuance of this gesture. And if she ever thought for a moment her cryptic message in the press release was going to knock him off course, she'll know better soon. Very soon.

He takes himself in at the full-length mirror at the end of the upstairs hallway. He stands completely still before his reflection and lets out a loud, low-pitched growl. He is prowling today, a predator stalking the prey. A tingle of excitement prickles his neck.

As he walks through the downstairs study to the foyer, the news reporter on the televisions says, "And this just in from our Fort Worth affiliate Channel 8 K-FTV, gubernatorial candidate Sue Ellen Ewing says the DUI stop we heard about earlier this morning was a set-up and she can prove it. Ewing is in Fort Worth today for a campaign rally set to start at noon. Let's go to Channel 8 field reporter Tonia Hanson for more.

"Thank you Sara, that's right, Sue Ellen Ewing spoke exclusively to us this morning and alleged the DUI stop she experienced late last night by a man she thought was a Dallas police officer was an orchestrated tactic by individuals wanting to capitalize on her battle with alcoholism and smear her sober reputation. Have a listen," she says and tape rolls of Sue Ellen's interview.

"Thanks for speaking with us, Mrs. Ewing,"

"Sue Ellen, please."

The reporter smiles, "Yes ma'am. Now Sue Ellen, you're alleging this DUI stop was a set-up? A fake field sobriety test to generate negative publicity?"

"That's right," Sue Ellen says.

"With an officer in uniform and a real police car? Why would someone go to all that trouble when you've been sober for decades?"

"Well, I think it speaks to two things. One, society still sees alcoholism as a shameful addiction. Whoever did this to me counted on that and knew I'd get lots of bad press. And I think that's a shame. If someone resumed smoking again would anyone take notice? Would there be photos plastered all over the internet? Of course not. But smoking and drinking are both chemical addictions so why are they treated so differently? We've got to stop this stigma against alcoholics. It keeps a lot of people from seeking help."

"And two?" the reporter asks.

"Two, someone really wants to keep me out of office," Sue Ellen says with a big smile. "My goodness, I haven't even gotten the party's nomination yet and already all this maneuvering? I can only imagine what might happen down the road," she says and winks. "You know, some candidates haven't taken me very seriously, calling me the "little lady from Dallas". I say to them, do any of y'all have someone paying you this much attention? Sabotaging your campaign in this grand fashion?" Sue Ellen smiles again, "The name's Sue Ellen Ewing, and you might want to take notice."

The reported nods. "So let me get this straight. You were not drunk, you believe the DUI stop was fake and you can prove it?"

"Yes. Absolutely," Sue Ellen says and looks straight into the camera.

"Well what kind of proof do you have?" the reporter asks.

"I'm not ready to disclose that yet. I'd like to give the Dallas Police Department a chance to respond and I'll go from there," Sue Ellen says. "Now that's all I have time for right now. We're getting ready for a great rally here in Fort Worth so I'd like to put a lid on this nonsense and enjoy meeting all the voters who are coming out today," Sue Ellen says and the reporter signs off.

Harris stands frozen in front of the television, his fists balled tightly and his face twisted into a grimace. Who is this intolerable woman? Where is the Sue Ellen who would crumble at adversity? She's still in there, somewhere. _I will break you, Sue Ellen Ewing, mark my words. I will break you in unimaginable ways._

Harris wipes moisture beads off his upper lip as he exits the imposing wooden front door. His maid is walking up the drive.

"Good morning, Mr. Ryland," she says, avoiding eye contact.

He does not respond and bumps her shoulder as he hurries to his car. She drops her bucket of cleaning supplies on the driveway.

* * *

Officer Jensen's cell phone keeps vibrating in his uniform pocket during roll call. Who in hell is it? He discretely pulls out his cell to look. His heart thumps. What's Harris Ryland calling his personal cell for? He wants to run out of squad and take this call but that's out of the question. He sighs and wills the sergeant to hurry up.

The moment squad is over, Jensen rushes into the hallway and out to his police car. Luckily he is working alone today. He gets in the car and pushes the call back button. Harris' phone barely rings once.

"Don't speak," Harris hisses. "Sue Ellen Ewing's smug face is all over TV this morning gloating about evidence proving the stop was a set up. Did you leave anything behind after the job last night? Anything at all?"

"Uh, no?" Jensen says.

"You're sure? Absolutely sure? Did you wear your name tag you stupid shit?"

"No! Of course not. She's bluffing. She's gotta be. Honest Mr. Ryland. I'm sorry for the trouble but - "

"Shut up. You better hope you're right," Harris says. "If you screwed this up, you can apologize to me in person while your nuts are in a vise grip you sloppy son of a bitch. You better write up a report and turn it in with a good excuse. She wants Dallas PD to respond."

"What? I can't do that. I wasn't even dispatched out on the lake road, remember? That's how you wanted it, no trace. So it would look like she made it disappear….. Right?" Jensen says in a high pitched voice.

Silence on the other end and then, "Turn in a report." Harris hangs up.

Jensen breathes rapidly, his bullet proof vest heaves up and down. He cannot connect himself to this mess, not with those pictures sent to the press. He'll be fired for doing that. He bangs his fist on the steering wheel several times. He takes some deep breaths and a swig from his water bottle. He curses himself for dropping that glove at the scene. Well, he'll just have to get it back.

* * *

Paul Two sticks his arm out the window and feels the warm air glide over his skin as he cruises down the highway to Fort Worth in Miss Ruby's Bombay blue 1961 Cadillac. As he looks over the dash to the open road, the bright blue color of the car's hood reminds him of the clean Jamaican waters he still misses. Someday he will go back home where he belongs.

But right now he is far from blue waters. The endless brown and gold desert landscape depresses him. Suddenly he sees a police car parked along the highway in the distance. Paul's body tenses and he closes the window. No need to advertise the color of his skin with his bare black arm hanging out of it. Paul is no fool. This is Texas and he is driving a very noticeable, very collectible classic car with no proof of ownership. He shakes his fist in the air. _Damn you Miss Ruby with your strange visions and spells._ He doesn't feel like being her bait today. He makes sure not to drive too fast nor too slow while passing the police cruiser. He's relieved it stays put in his rear view mirror.

"Well I guess you ain't the big bad man," he says aloud. "On to the next one, Lord help me."

About 40 minutes later, Paul pulls into the parking lot at at the high school stadium where Sue Ellen's rally will be. He smiles and kisses the simple gold crucifix around his neck, happy to have made it without any trouble. He is nearly an hour early and easily finds a parking spot with a view of the stadium's front row. Paul settles in to wait for the right moment to walk by and get a look at everyone seated in it. He removes a large red apple from a paper bag on the seat and devours it with pleasure. The song 'The Archer and The Arrow" plays on the radio.

Sue Ellen's secretaries Susanna and Elizabeth roam among the gathering crowd, greeting people and evaluating how much Spanish interpretation will be needed. Quite a few men and women wear their Local Union t-shirts. Some carry signs with slogans demanding a political voice for their issues. Lots of children run about, laughing and playing on the sport field's grass. A group of young boys kick a soccer ball back and forth. The campaign's 'chuck wagon', a large flat bed barbecue draped with Texas flag banners and Sue Ellen's name, is already smoking with the sweet, enticing aroma of black strap molasses marinade. A group of men in cowboy hats gather around it and compare grilling secrets with the man basting the meat.

Mark is busy doing sound checks on the metal stage in front of the stadium seats. He taps the podium's microphone sending a thud echoing outward. "Test, 1, 2, check, check 1, 2," he says. Aubrey rolls her eyes under the shade of a white canopy above which a Texas flag flies in the warm wind. She wants to snatch that microphone out of Mark's hands and announce to the crowd what a loser he is in every possible way. Her cell's text alert ends her daydreaming.

"I'm coming to the rally. Keep your reaction in check when you see me," her father's message reads.

Aubrey's eyes widen and she looks around as if someone is watching her. She types back, "What? Why? Don't you want to maintain your distance?"

"Don't question. I know what I'm doing. The TV bit this morning changed the game," he responds and then, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Her father has such a knack for conjuring suspicion and paranoia. She'd admire it if she didn't fall victim herself. Choosing her words carefully, she texts, "One of the workers looked around my desk but there's nothing to find. All's well." Minutes pass. No response.

* * *

Sue Ellen sits alone on her campaign bus, the air conditioning softly swaying her hair. She's made a habit of coming here right before rallies and going into herself for a few minutes. She takes deep breaths and rolls her head side to side with her eyes closed. When she opens them, she gazes out a bus window at the growing crowd in the bleachers. A few pangs of anxiety stab her chest but she quells them with optimism and purpose. She takes note of the strongest feeling she has right now, gratitude. She is grateful for this chance, for both the will and the means to pursue this dream, for believing in herself and for just being here, alive and reasonably well. She lets the moment wash over her, then stands.

"Please," she says alone in the dark, quiet bus, "Let me speak to these people simply and honestly, and let them feel my respect and concern for their lives. And if I truly am the right one to lead this great state, then entrust it to me and let me not be moved. I am unafraid and up to task!" she says and stomps her boots on the metal floor grate, a smile lighting up her face.

* * *

Paul exits the car and closes the door gently with both hands. He looks around the parking lot without a trace of the apprehension raging in his stomach. Walking around the perimeter of the field at a normal pace, he nods and smiles at people without encouraging conversation. When he reaches the red clay track ring, he cuts across it and stands to the left of the bleachers. He stays in this spot for a few seconds, unsure what he is waiting for.

A man dressed all in beige bumps Paul as he pushes past the crowd gathering at the foot of the bleacher stairs. Paul locks eyes on him with the precision of a rifle scope, following him along the first row of seats that are nearly full now. The man heads for two seats with 'reserved' signs on them and sits in one. He turns around, tears the sign off his chair, crumples it and tosses it on the ground. It's time.

Paul begins his slow and steady walk along the front row seats, looking at each face as if he is searching for someone he hasn't yet met, which is of course entirely accurate. When he reaches the beige man, he seems to lean forward in his seat. Paul's eyes refuse to blink until the man breaks his gaze.

"This seat is reserved," Harris Ryland says coldly and nods at the empty chair next to him. He looks Paul over from head to toe. The corners of his mouth turn downward at the sight of Paul's dusty sandals.

"Of course, my apologies," Paul says.

His mouth is dry as sand and his breathing shallow. He continues walking the row, fighting the urge to turn back for another look at the man with the dead eyes. Instead Paul continues to the end of the row, still looking at each face although he is certain he's already seen what needed seeing.

Suddenly the crowd begins applauding. Paul looks back to see Sue Ellen walking across the grass field toward the stage with the purposeful but elegant strides of a bull fighter. She smiles and waves at the crowd, the black fringe of her red western shirt decorating her arms. People are still settling into their seats and Paul is tempted to climb up the bleachers and stay. The clear blue sky charms him and the smell of barbecue is making his mouth water. He'd like to hear what Sue Ellen will say. He'd like to decide if he'd support her views and be able to vote like all these people here. He'd like to do a lot of things.

Paul looks at his watch, both ends of its worn brown leather band held together with a thick rubber band. The face reads 10 past noon. He takes one more look at smiling Sue Ellen climbing up the stage steps, then he turns and walks back to Miss Ruby's beloved blue Cadillac to drive home.

* * *

Sue Ellen's heart flutters a bit as she looks at the stadium full of people. Last minute jitters plague her more frequently lately. She wishes John Ross were here today. Suddenly Mark is walking toward her on stage with an urgent stride.

"Mark? What is it? You look more tense than usual," Sue Ellen says with a tentative smile.

Mark laughs nervously. "Sue Ellen, I'm sorry but I was caught up doing the sound check and I didn't realize what happened but - "

"Slow down," Sue Ellen says. "Whatever it is, we can handle it. What's happened?"

Mark takes a deep breath. "I forgot to remove the 'reserved' signs from the two chairs in front for John Ross and Elena. I should have taken the damn signs off as soon as you told me they weren't coming but I got distracted and now, well now…"

Sue Ellen looks over Mark's shoulder at the front row of seats just 20 feet from the stage. There sits Harris Ryland, front and center, perfectly straight, both hands on his knees, staring at Sue Ellen with the intensity of a cheetah marking a gazelle. She utters a short gasp.

"Well, look who's here," Sue Ellen says. She smiles curtly but her face becomes pale.

"I'm sorry Sue Ellen. Would you like me to ask him to move? Aubrey and I can sit in the two chairs," Mark says.

Sue Ellen swallows hard. "No, no thank you Mark," she manages to say as the cold, familiar wave of loneliness douses her again. She can feel her self confidence receding with the realization that she has no family here supporting her. Seeming to sense this, Harris' thin lips spread into a wide smile. He gives her a little wave.

Harris Ryland sitting in John Ross' chair. Isn't that ironic. Her enemy's made more of an effort to be here than her own son. It's affecting her more than she's ready for and she finds herself forgetting what she was going to say. She looks at the crowd again. So many people. She waves at them but doesn't take the podium yet, trying to collect herself.

"Mark, would you get me some water please?" she asks.

Mark's eyes are so wide there's no mistake her discomfort is obvious. She hates herself for feeling this way but John Ross is the only one who holds the key to her vulnerability and he's unlocked it today. Sue Ellen sighs. Just as she touches John Ross' gold locket around her neck, someone walks over and sits down in the other 'reserved' seat next to Harris. Sue Ellen's bright, wide smile eclipses the sadness on her face and she returns to herself in a matter of seconds.

Even though JR is old and moves more stiffly than what you might call a fighting man, sitting there next to Harris Ryland he looks like a tall strong oak. His fine white Stetson towers a good eight inches over Harris' seated height and Sue Ellen could swear JR barrels his chest when she acknowledges him. His huge gold belt buckle gleams in the sun; "JR" it simply says. He smiles and blows her a kiss. Unbeknownst to him, he is throwing her a life line and today she will let him be her anchor.

Mark returns with a bottled water for her. She takes the podium and turns the microphone on. He hands it to her and turns to see who she's smiling at. "Oh whoa," he says, noticing JR. "Mr. Ryland looks like he's shrinking," Mark says, getting a few laughs from the open microphone. "Sorry," he mouths to Sue Ellen. Harris Ryland no longer smiles. The group of television reporters who opted to stay for the rally are crammed into one of the shaded dug outs. Several of them poke their heads around the open sides to get a look at who Ryland might be. The Channel 8 camera man takes a few second's footage of the crowd. Harris Ryland sits frozen, expressionless.

Wearing their headset microphones, Susanna and Elizabeth take their places on either side of the stage ready to wirelessly transmit Spanish translation to about half of the audience who wear receivers provided by the campaign. Elizabeth is so happy she wants to pinch herself. Her first day on the job and she's going to translate her boss' speech! Mr. Ryland would never have entrusted her with this honor. She looks out at her people with pride, the hard working men and women who clean other people's mess, tend their plants, make their beds, even raise their children. They are here on their one day off to learn what this woman has to say and Sue Ellen has made sure they can understand her. Elizabeth quickly wipes a tear from her eye, embarrassed at her emotion.

"Well no doubt this is working," Sue Ellen jokes at Harris' expense as she taps the microphone. "Hello everyone! How y'all doin'?" she says. The crowd claps and waves. "Have all y'all got your barbecue and your cold drinks?" she asks. Hoots and hollers come from the crowd.

"Good, good. Please, continue to help yourself as I talk with you today. You make sure to have seconds. And we've got some boxes and bags for take away, too. Be sure to tell your family and neighbors Sue Ellen says hi, you hear?"

More applause. Mark watches Sue Ellen cast her spell on this crowd. He doesn't think he's ever met a more charming person.

"Friends," Sue Ellen continues, "I was going to talk to you about policies and strategies and other such things today but I've changed my mind."

The crowd goes quiet and now the only sound is the big Texas flag snapping in the hot wind. Sue Ellen takes a drink of water. The girls' translation continues in a low whispery hum.

"Today, I just want to celebrate our great state of Texas and I'd like to tell you what I see when I look at her." The crowd yells and claps. Some men wave their cowboy hats in the air. Sue Ellen is reminded Texas pride is like no other.

The Channel 8 camera man is the only one filming Sue Ellen. The other media people are occupied with their cell phones in the dug out, waiting for the rally to end so the DUI story questions can start.

Sue Ellen continues, "If you ask our nation what Texas is about, they might say cowboys, or rodeos, horses, football and ranching or barbecues, too." Cheers ring out with each category. "Now these are wonderful things that I enjoy myself, but they're not the heart of Texas. We are. All of us. The honest, determined, proud and strong people who live and work here make Texas a majestic and mighty place."

"Earlier this week, I experienced something that reminded me some of us live in the shadows for whatever reason. Some of us feel disheartened, ignored, even invisible. Well, I am telling you today that I see you, all of you - rich, poor, young, old, healthy and ill, I see you and you matter to me, equally and unequivocally. You matter to Sue Ellen Ewing. The derrick worker's happiness matters as much as the oil baron, the house keeper's as much as the mansion owner, the shelter resident as much as the philanthropist. I want to make your lives better. And I believe I can, not with my money, or my power or my Ewing name, but with my eyes and ears."

More camera people come out of the dug out's shade and start filming Sue Ellen. Some applause rings out from the crowd.

"I will listen to Texans and I will see what your lives are about, your struggles, your frustrations, battles and fears. Your dreams, ideas and hopes, for yourselves and your children. You will be heard. I can't fix everything and I'm not promising to. But I pledge to you that I will listen, with an open heart and mind. You will be heard. I will look upon Texas as a mother guards her children, fiercely and without apology. And you can quote me on that," she says and points to the media group. More applause.

"Now I admit this may be the simplest and perhaps most naive political speech ever given, but it's honest and that ought to count for something. This is how I feel, not how I think you want me to feel, or what I think you want me to say. I don't work like that and it's best you know it right now."

She turns and gestures at the dug out, "These nice television people over here might run sound bytes tonight that make me sound like a fool to the rest of Texas who wasn't here today, sitting in the hot sun like you folks are. And that's fine. That's just fine because I say what I mean, no matter who's in the room, or who isn't."

The crowd roars with applause now, surprising Sue Ellen who beams and waves. Some people hold Sue Ellen's "Honesty for a change" slogan signs in the air. JR sits dumbfounded in the font row wondering who this woman is commanding the crowd like this. He feels like he's been away for decades, no longer recognizing his demure and easily manipulated trophy wife so wrought with angst long ago. The woman before him now is about as delicate as a cactus. She's become a steel magnolia and JR is highly aroused. Sue Ellen catches his eye just then and he tips his hat to her, smiling with wink. Only then does she notice Harris Ryland has left.

"So," she continues, "to the lovely society ladies, I see you planning your events and giving service to your communities. I see you oil men, carrying part of the Texas economy on your shoulders strained under outdated regulations. I see you cattlemen, protecting your livestock from disease and your ranches from drug bandits crossing our borders." A bunch of men near the top of the bleachers cheer loudly and hold their cowboy hats in the air.

"I see you, immigrants, working your bodies until they nearly break from cleaning our hotel rooms, washing our clothes and cooking our food all for minimum wage that you send home to your families, hoping they can join you some day." Susanna and Elizabeth struggle to keep up with Sue Ellen's rapid and impassioned speech. The translation delays the reaction from the crowd but once they've understood what Sue Ellen just said they erupt in applause. Susana and Elizabeth clap along with them.

Suddenly one man yells out, "¡Escucha! Te escuchamos madrina! Te vemos madrina!" Sue Ellen looks at Elizabeth who runs to her and whispers excitedly in her ear, "He said, 'Listen! We hear you godmother, we see you godmother.' He is honoring you. He is showing you respect and trust by calling you 'madrina'," she says. Sue Ellen is visibly touched. Other people begin saying 'madrina' in unison.

She walks around the podium and down the stage steps and is about to start up the bleacher stairs when JR calls out, "Sue Ellen! I don't think you should go up there, honey."

She turns back and pats him on the shoulder, then continues up the stairs as people hold their hands out in the aisle for her to shake. She reaches the older Mexican man wearing a Union shirt seated about halfway up the stadium and holds out one hand to him, the other placed on her heart. He carefully steps past others sitting in his row and goes to her, taking her hand while removing his old and faded hat. Before she turns to go, he takes a cloth pendant on a leather cord from his neck and asks in Spanish to put it around hers. Elizabeth is right behind her to translate.

"He asks permission to give this to you. He wants to put it around your neck. It's the 'Virgen de Guadalupe', for protection," Elizabeth says.

Sue Ellen nods and lowers her head. The man puts the necklace on her and loud cheers come from a large group of men and women wearing similar union t-shirts. She smiles and waves, hurrying back down the stairs. The crowd's energy is palpable.

When she returns to the podium, slightly out of breath, a radiant Sue Ellen says, "Lastly, and most importantly, to the sick among us, I see you and I hear you….I was you….I am you still." The crowd quiets down. "When you're sick, your world becomes very small. You use all your strength trying to get well. You must often fight battles you shouldn't have to and it can make you feel hopeless. I promise you, if I'm elected, I will do everything in my power to improve Texas healthcare. You have my word on that," she says with a crack in her voice.

"Now that we know each other a little better," Sue Ellen says, "I hope I can ask you to reach out to your friends and family for me. Tell them what you've heard today and ask them to connect with me online to learn more. I so appreciate each and every one of you spending your Sunday afternoon with me. I hope you've learned something today that will help you choose who earns your vote next year. And please remember, I see you, I hear you and WE ARE TEXAS!"


	16. Chapter 16

_This is the last chapter in the "Mother Texas" series. Thanks to everyone who continue to read and review. Much appreciated! Next in the story is "The Potter's Ground" segment, a darker storyline with hard choices for Sue Ellen and others._

* * *

"Well son of a bitch. SON OF A BITCH!" Boone yells and pounds his fist on the wooden end table, toppling his cold bottle of beer. The foaming liquid spills over the table's edge and onto the plush dark green carpet.

Lucy appears in the cut out between the den and kitchen. "Oh Boone. Look what you did! All over my new carpet," she says and runs to the spill holding a big sponge.

Boone stands up, flipping rapidly through the channels with the television remote.

"Boone! Whatsa matter with you? What are you doing?" Lucy asks. Boone keeps intent on the television screen, scrolling through more channels. Lucy stomps her small bare foot on Boone's boot. He doesn't even flinch. She jumps up and down in front of him, waving her arms back and forth. "Hey!" she yells.

Boone lifts her up by the shoulders and places her to the side, his muscular arms rippling under his tight white thermal shirt. "Quiet, little lady. This is important….There!" he shouts, pausing at another news channel. "Sue Ellen done blabbed her mouth about the goddamn glove."

"What?" Lucy says.

"Listen here," Boone says and points to the screen where an image of Sue Ellen is projected next to a reporter introducing the story.

"Dallas-based gubernatorial candidate Sue Ellen Ewing claims she was framed with a fake DUI stop for bad publicity last night. And she can prove it," the reporter says before launching the Channel 8 interview.

Lucy and Boone watch silent and wide-eyed until the segment's end.

Lucy smiles tentatively at Boone. "Well, at least she didn't mention the glove specifically," she says.

"Don't matter. What in hell happened to lay low and let me handle it? Huh? This here press interview ain't layin' low. She changed the damn plan without so much as a look in our di-rection. Dammit! This blabbin' she done is gonna cause me grief, totally unnecessary grief. I already took the glove to the lab. We'll have answers in a few days. I was handling it, just like I said I would." Boone sighs.

"I'm sorry baby. If there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's that Sue Ellen's gonna do what's best for Sue Ellen. She probably saw a chance and took it. You shouldn't be surprised, Boone, you've known her long enough," Lucy says.

"Well fuck me for trying to be a nice guy," Boone says.

"Alright," Lucy says with a sly smile, throws the sponge on the end table and leads him by the hand to their bedroom.

* * *

Ruby sits in Sunday finery on the red velvet cushion of her parlor bench. A white silk suit jacket hugs her ample bosom, its cleavage safely hidden behind a swatch of white lace. The matching white tulip skirt flares below her knees. A lavender up brim derby hat with a large white tulle bow frames her glistening pearly hair set in a chignon at the nape of her neck. Only her shoes betray her age; the simple white patent flats that hug her aching feet disgust her, not at all appropriate for an outfit grand as this. She hopes no one notices.

"All dressed up and no place to go," she says impatiently, waiting for a sign of when and where she's going.

She paces the foyer, tempted to make herself some hot tea. Moments later, foot steps stomp up the front porch. Ruby turns swiftly, standing a few feet from the door. A large shadow of a human figure fills the sheer curtain over the front door window. Ruby takes the pistol out of the foyer table drawer and cocks it. She aims it straight ahead, perfectly steady.

"Forgive me Lord for what I'm about to do," she says in a low whisper. "But if there is harm, ye shall pay life for life. Exodus 21:23. Now come on with it, you devil!" Ruby says to the figure behind the door. There are rustling sounds as the shadowed man removes something from a bag. Suddenly a bundle of mail slides through the hatch on the side of the door and falls to the marble floor.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Ruby says and opens the door. "Why in hell don't you announce yourself, boy?" she yells at the mailman.

"Ma'am?"

"Have some manners! Ain't you southern? Announce yourself when you're lumbering your large frame up the porch of an old woman living alone. You ain't my regular mail girl," she says.

The mailman's mouth opens at the sight of Ruby's pistol in her hand at her side. "Ssssorry, sorry," is all he manages to say as he slowly backs away.

"I wondered why the Lord had me dress fancy just to shoot someone dead on my own porch. He sure do have a sense of humor, don't He?" Ruby says with a robust laugh that sounds like a crazed cackle to the mailman.

He stumbles on the last step down but doesn't take his eyes off Ruby's gun. He walks sideways down the drive and hurries out of sight.

Ruby shakes her head and looks around the porch before going inside, afraid she's missed something but nothing catches her eye. She sighs and goes inside, closing the door behind her.

"Lord I'm waitin' on you. Show me the way, now. And be quick about it, I'd like to have me some lunch soon, if you please," she says.

She looks down at the pile of mail beneath her feet. Only one item is turned right side up, a post card advertising a new church, 'Southern Cross Baptist Church open for worship, _now_. 2123 Acorn Drive, Fort Worth TX' it reads.

"Yes! Yes Lord!" Ruby shouts. She grabs her bible, drops the pistol into her handbag and locks the front door behind her. As she hurries out to the truck in the driveway, one of her neighbors calls out to her.

"Mornin' Miss Ruby! Where you off to in such a hurry?"

"Goin' to worship. New church in Fort Worth," Ruby says.

"Why you goin' all the way to Fort Worth, honey?"

"I been called, Beth Ann. I been called and that's all there is to it," Ruby says as she fires up the big Ford pick up and peels out of the drive way, heading to the highway toward Fort Worth.

* * *

The news reporters rush out of the dug out and swarm towards Sue Ellen like a rugby scrum, pushing and pulling each other to get closer to the rally stage. With cameras rolling, they shout out questions to her in rapid fire.

"Hold it! Settle down, please," she says. "Come now ladies and gentlemen, let's be civilized about this shall we?" Sue Ellen smiles, delighted with their frantic enthusiasm. "Now, be polite. One at a time. I'll stay for half an hour to answer your questions."

Mark begins taking questions by pointing to reporters. A flurry of questions about the DUI stop start things off, then it becomes more personal.

"Do you support the death penalty in Texas?" a male reporter asks.

"Yes," Sue Ellen says without hesitation. The reporters murmur with surprise at her swift response.

"But I don't take the decision lightly. Our State has put 1,244 people to death. I am prepared to uphold the law and execute those who were convicted of crimes deemed so heinous that they should be put to death. Yes, I surely am."

"And you may know that our great State has a penal code allowing the death penalty to be assessed on people convicted of raping a child. But the provision's been nullified by the Supreme Court ruling in Kennedy v. Louisiana," Sue Ellen pauses for effect. "As a mother, _as a human being_, I think that's a disgrace. And if I'm elected, I'll examine the options to challenge it." Some reporters clap.

"What about the insanity plea? Do you support that?" the same reporter asks.

"It depends on the circumstances of the case," Sue Ellen says, choosing her words carefully. "People do go through things, organically or otherwise, and lose their ability to think rationally. Luckily it's not up to me to decide their fate. We have medical and judicial experts to do that."

"Isn't it true that you were once committed to a sanitarium?" the reporter persists.

Sue Ellen stares at him with a steely gaze, realizing his ulterior motive. "No. That's not true. I was actually committed twice, by my ex-husband JR Ewing," she says and gestures to JR standing off to the side. JR hesitates, then waves to the reporters, unsure where this is going.

"And you know what? It was the right thing to do and I thank him for it. I needed help and I got it. I was drinking then and now I'm not. So let me take this opportunity to say to anyone who needs help with addiction, depression, mental illness, whatever, get it. There's no shame in fixing what's broken. There is strength and better days on the other side of your suffering. Look at me. If someone had told me I'd be running for office when I was living at the bottom of a bottle some 20 years ago, I'd have laughed in their face. Well. That was then and this is now," she says and smiles.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to leave. I've got an important engagement this evening and I simply cannot be late," she says and winks at JR.

The reporters say thank you and most walk away. A few print media people linger behind with their cameras.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Ewing? How about a few photos with your family today for the Fort Worth Chronical?" one asks.

Sue Ellen's eyes widen and her body tenses. She looks away and Mark starts to step forward but a hand on his shoulder holds him back.

"Right here, folks," JR says, walking to Sue Ellen's side. He puts his arm around her waist and pulls her close. She looks up at him with eyes that say more than words ever could. The cameras flash and pop.

* * *

In Fort Worth news rooms, print and television production teams prepare their papers, websites and sound bytes with variations of the same headline to summarize Sue Ellen's rally, "Mother Texas".


	17. The Potter's Ground Chapter 17

Paul licks his dry lips and considers stopping for a cold drink to quench this thirst he's had since leaving Fort Worth. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and disappears into his eyebrow. An weathered billboard at the next turn off just ahead reads, 'EAT, DRINK, ICE, GAS, 2 MILES'. Paul slows the gleaming bright blue Cadillac down but hesitates at the off ramp. No use stopping only 20 minutes from home. He drives on.

"Straight home, eh Miss Ruby?" he says. "Shoot. You tellin' me what to do even when you not here. Look at me, a grown man afraid of an old woman."

He shakes his and turns the radio up, smiling at the surroundings growing familiar once more. He's happy to have made the trip without harm to the car, or himself.

'Welcome to Dallas' the green sign says on the side of the highway. Twelve more miles until that cold drink, Paul thinks. Big billowy clouds now paint the sky's blue canvas. One looks like an elephant and makes Paul smile.

Suddenly short bursts of a siren blast off behind him. Paul jumps in his seat. A black and white police cruiser's red and blue lights flash in his rear view mirror. A lone male officer driving the vehicle motions with his hand to pull over.

"Oh have mercy," Paul says as he slowly moves to the highway shoulder. "I'm about to get got."

"Afternoon, officer," Paul says through his open window to the uniformed man in the dark sunglasses.

"License and registration, please," he responds.

"Um, yes, well – "

"Is there a problem?" says the officer.

"No, no sir. Well yes but, no," Paul says while handing him his driver's license and the car registration.

The officer scrunches up his face at the license. "How you say this damn name, boy?"

Paul's jaw clenches. "Kazzius Johannes," he says.

The officer laughs. "Come again? You speakin' English, _boy_?"

"It's a Jamaican name, sir. I'm from Jamaica," Paul says with a big smile.

"Well is that right? Watchoo doin' here, Kazz-i-us Jo-han-nes? Vacationing in Dallas in your fancy car? Huh?"

Paul wipes the sweat from his forehead.

"Why you sweatin' like that? Ain't you got air conditioner in this fine vehicle? You been running from someone?" says the officer.

"No, sir. I'm just warm that's all," Paul says.

"Warm, huh? Well look at me standing out in this heat and I ain't sweatin' like you. Is it that black skin of yours? Is that it? Does it just suck the heat in like coals in a furnace?" The officer grins and spits brown tobacco juice on the Cadillac's shiny hood.

"I don't know about no coal, sir," Paul says.

"Oh, oh I see. Well tell me somethin' then, what do you know about this classic car? Huh? And who the hell is Ruby Monroe?" he asks while looking at the registration paper. "She the lady you stole this vehicle from? Step out the car, boy."

"Miss Monroe is my boss, sir. I'm just – "

"STEP OUT THIS DAMN CAR RIGHT NOW!" the officer yells and unholsters his gun.

Paul fumbles with the door handle.

"RIGHT NOW, BOY, I MEAN IT," the officer shouts while pointing his gun at Paul. His left foot gets caught in the slack of the seat belt, tripping him to the pavement on all fours.

"That's right. You just stay down there on your knees where you belong" the officer laughs. "Tell you what, why don't you bark for me while you're down there? Bark like the dog that you are."

Ruby Monroe stops humming her hymn when she sees her unmistakable blue Cadillac pulled off the other side of the highway less than a mile ahead. Her white patent leather shoe pushes the gas pedal to the truck's floorboard when she recognizes Paul Two kneeling on the ground at gunpoint.

"There you are, devil. I been waitin' on you this mornin'," Ruby says as she speeds forward.

Both Paul and the officer stare at the big Ford pick up truck careening down the highway, engine roaring. As it gets closer, Paul sees a flash of purple on the driver's head behind the windshield and he smiles wide. The truck powers over the shallow dirt ditch dividing both lanes of the highway, sending a brown dust cloud into the air. The officer trains his gun on the truck as it skids behind them and slides to a stop about 30 feet back.

"STOP THAT TRUCK!" the officer yells, pointing his gun back and forth between Ruby and Paul.

"I already done stopped the truck, fool," Ruby says as she climbs down from the cab. The officer squints at the sight of the church lady walking toward him. Ruby adjusts her purple hat. "Now holster your weapon, boy. And tell me why you've got my house man down on his knees," Ruby says.

"Your what? Your house man?" the officer looks at Paul. He wants to slap the smile off his face. "What's your name ma'am?"

"My name is Miss Ruby Monroe of Dallas by way of Beaumont. And your name's about to be dead and gone if you don't stand down this instant. I pay your salary with all the business me and my oil do in this city. Now what in hell's _your_ name, boy?"

The closer Ruby comes, the tighter the officer's chest gets and he starts wheezing. He clears his throat. "Officer Jensen, Dallas Police Department, at your service," he says and coughs.

Ruby makes the sign of the cross as she gets closer. Officer Jensen looks increasingly uneasy. "Ma'am are you feeling alright?" he asks.

"Oh hell yes. I'm just fine. Ain't nothing weighing _me_ down," she says. "Get up now Paul. Come on over here by me."

"No, no. You stay right there until I properly assess the situation," Jensen says to Paul.

"Hey!" Ruby shouts. "Lemme back this train up for you, Jensen. As I said, this here's my house man. He works for me and he has every right to be drivin' my car. Now what's this about?" Ruby says as she motions for Paul to come to her.

"Well now ma'am, I stopped him for not wearing his seatbelt is all. And he took to smart mouthin' me so I had to get him out the car, for my safety. You understand," Jensen says.

"Oh I understand, believe you me," Ruby says as Jensen's breathing quickens. He wipes sweat from his brow. Ruby hands Paul her driver's license. "Give that over to him. See there? Ruby Monroe. That's me and this here's my car. Let's go Paul."

"Paul?"

"That's right. That's what I call him but that ain't your concern. Come on Paul, we're leaving," Ruby says but something catches her eye.

"Wait just a minute. Who spat this filth on my beautiful car?" she asks, pointing to the brown stain across the Cadillac's hood.

Neither Paul nor Jensen say anything. Jensen hands Paul a seatbelt citation, gets in his police car and drives away.

"You alright?" Ruby asks.

"Yes, yes I'm okay Miss Ruby. But I sure am glad to see you!"

Ruby wobbles on her feet and steadies herself with the side of the car.

"Miss Ruby?" Paul says just as she turns her head and gags.

"Oh Lord. That was him alright, same wretched stench as Sue Ellen's glove. Turns my stomach," Ruby says and spits on the ground.

"Glove?" Paul asks.

"Never mind that. Come on now, drive behind me. We're goin' to church. We're gonna need some extra help," Ruby says.

* * *

"Stop being ridiculous," Sue Ellen tells herself looking at the pile of clothes on her bed. The clock proves she's been trying on outfits for nearly an hour. "It's just dinner at Southfork, not the White House," she says and rolls her eyes. _Dinner at Southfork._ She's excited and terrified at the same time.

It's been so very long since she sat at the Ewing table. _Will I sit next to JR?_ She unknowingly bites her lower lip and brushes her hair out of her face, touching her forehead moist with anxiety. The mirror catches her eye. She looks a mess. And she's tired from the long day. Sue Ellen tosses the black silk blouse on the bed, gets right up to the mirror and studies her face. She takes her fingers and smooths out her cheeks, pulling the skin up over her cheek bones then lets it drop down. She closes her eyes and sighs heavily.

"This is a bad idea," she says.

She flops down atop the mound of outfits on her bed and dials JR on her cell to cancel.

"Hello?" JR says on the first ring.

"JR - "

"Well hello darlin'," JR says. "You were somethin' else today, Sue Ellen, I tell you!"

She smiles into the phone. "Well thank you, JR. I appreciate that. I, uh, I've learned the media's a different animal all together. You never can tell what they're gonna throw at you."

"Aw come on now, honey. From what I saw today, it was you throwin' the fast balls. Well done, sugar. I'm real proud of you, Sue Ellen. I mean that."

Sue Ellen inhales sharply and her eyes begin to mist. She blinks them rapidly, determined to chase the unexpected tears away.

"Sue Ellen?"

"Yes, yes I'm here. Listen JR - "

"Hey what about that pale snake Ryland, huh?" JR laughs. "You see him slink away? I do believe he crawled off to shed his skin. I think we bruised him some."

Sue Ellen giggles. "You might be right about that."

"Just you wait, honey. He's really gonna feel the squeeze come tomorrow. Then he's gonna learn that if you mess with one Ewing, you get the whole family's special attention. Yeah. He'll be begging you for mercy in no time." JR says and smiles.

"What did you….oh never mind. I don't want to know," Sue Ellen says and takes a deep breath. "JR, I do want to thank you for coming today. That was a wonderful surprise. It meant a lot to me, it really did. And truth be told, I was a little nervous. So it was nice to see you right there by the stage. But it's been such a long day - "

"Sue Ellen, just listen real good because I will never say this again. I saw a woman today, a smart, honest, brave woman full of confidence and grace who spoke to that crowd and handled those reporters like a real leader, _like a governor_. I saw not one trace of the shy and uncertain lady I broke and battered with my foolish ways so long ago. And I will keep coming to see you speak and shine and win these crowds over. It's my apology to you for all you could have become in those wasted years," JR says and clears his throat.

Tears run down Sue Ellen's cheeks. She doesn't fight them and stays quiet, trying to brand every word JR said into her memory.

"Honey? You there?" he asks.

"Mmm hmm," Sue Ellen manages.

"Well aren't you gonna say something? I think that was awfully nice of me to say, don't you?"

Sue Ellen chokes out a laugh. "Still not one for modesty, I see."

"I'd say that's part of my charm," JR smiles. "Now what were you gonna say before I lost my mind and told you these secrets? What did you call for anyway?" he says.

"I, I just wondered about the dress for dinner. I don't want to be out of place if it's become more….casual," Sue Ellen says.

"Oh no, no darlin' don't you worry. You go on and make yourself look real nice. We're honoring Mama and Daddy with this dinner and their rules still apply. It's not you that's gonna feel out of place. I can tell you that much. And Sue Ellen? I do thank you for coming to Southfork tonight. It kills me to admit it, but I don't think I could do this without you," JR says.

"Alright then. See you at 6," Sue Ellen says and quickly hangs up, afraid her heart cannot take one more glorious word.


	18. Chapter 18

Lucy feels a pang of nostalgia seeing the 'EWING' license plates as she and Boone pull into the Southfork drive at 5 p.m., parking their SUV in the lot rear of the house.

"Look there, babe, EWING 1," Lucy says, pointing at JR's black Mercedes sedan as they walk to the patio. "Wow that really takes me back!"

"Kinda obnoxious if you ask me," Boone says. "This dinner oughta be real interesting."

Lucy giggles. "Aw come on. You ain't afraid of lil' ole JR, now are ya? He's old enough to be your daddy, granddad even," she teases.

"You're just talkin' nonsense, girl," Boone says and crosses his muscular arms over his chest, biceps flexing. "I ain't afraid of nobody, least of all your grumpy old uncle."

"Is that right?" JR says, walking out the open patio door, bourbon and branch in hand.

"Oh. Um….Evenin' Mr. Ewing," Boone says. "Me and Lucy were just foolin' out here."

Lucy stifles a laugh.

JR stares at Boone in silence, then breaks into a smile. "Call me JR, boy. After all, this is a family dinner isn't it? No need for formalities, don't you reckon?" he says and shakes Boone's hand.

Boone glances at Lucy and smiles nervously.

"Now what are you drinkin'?" JR asks.

"Well I'll have me a cold beer, JR, thank you kindly," Boone says.

"No. Uh uh. I'll get you a whiskey, son. Prepared my special way. That's what you really want," JR says. "You have dinner with the Ewings, you're gonna drink like one," he says and goes inside.

"What are you smilin' at?" Boone asks Lucy.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," she says and swats him on the ass, her hand lingering on the backside of his black slacks.

Boone brushes Lucy's thick blonde hair back and caresses her bare shoulder, fingering the strap of her midnight blue velvet halter top.

"Does this feel like a nervous man?" he asks and bends down to her. They kiss passionately long enough to make JR clear his throat.

"Well isn't young love nice," JR says, handing Boone his drink.

"Young love?" Lucy says. "I'm a grown woman, Uncle JR. I think you're confusing me with 20 years ago."

JR smiles. "Now Lucy, you'll always be my little niece no matter how many years go by. You sure do look pretty tonight, honey," JR says, admiring her long black lace skirt and high-heeled black boots.

"Thank you, JR. What's got you in such a good mood?" Lucy says.

"Just happy to have the family together again at Southfork, that's all," JR says. "What do you say we go on inside? Bobby and his, uh, wife, are in the den. Go on and say hello."

Lucy raises her eyebrows at Boone and they walk inside.

JR takes the last swallow of his bourbon, pushes his dark brown Stetson up and gazes at the long back driveway, looking for Sue Ellen's car.

* * *

Elena sits on the couch looking out the sheer living room curtain of her cottage. The sunset's golden rays float through the window. Southfork is beautiful at this time of day but Elena can't enjoy it. Watching Boone and Lucy visit with JR on the patio only made her more uncomfortable. She dials John Ross.

"Yeah?"

"John Ross, are you on your way?"

He sighs. "Just about to be."

"Well hurry up. Lucy and Boone are already inside," Elena says, her voice thin with tension.

"Damn Elena, what's wrong with you tonight? It's just dinner. Nothin' to be so nervous about," John Ross says.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't see your father's face when he invited me. He's up to something. I know it."

John Ross laughs. "He's alway up to something, darlin'. No cause for alarm. I promise. Now let me get off this phone and finish getting ready. I'll be at your door just before six and we'll go over together, okay?"

"Alright. Just hurry up, John Ross, please. I don't want to be late," she says and hangs up. Her watch reads 5:15 p.m.

In his condo, John Ross tosses his cell phone on the coffee table, rolls over on the couch and shuts his eyes, wanting to postpone this boring dinner for just a few more minutes.

* * *

"Lucy!" Bobby says, getting off the couch to give her a hug.

"Hi Uncle Bobby!"

"It's been a while, honey. Nice to see you. You too, Boone," Bobby says and pats him on the back.

JR takes Boone's empty glass and refills it.

"How are you, Ann?" Lucy says and hugs her. Ann pats her on the back politely.

"Just fine, Lucy, thank you. My isn't this something? All the Ewings for dinner again. I can hardly wait," Ann says. Bobby takes her hand.

"I think I'll see if Carmen needs any help with all this," Ann says.

"Oh nonsense, honey," JR says. "Carmen's the hired help, she's a professional. Don't you worry about her. You just visit with all of us in here," JR says and smiles wryly.

"Actually, Uncle JR, if you'll excuse us for a bit, I want to show Boone my old room," Lucy says. She winks at her husband and takes him by the hand, leading him upstairs.

Bobby rolls his eyes. "Well some things never change, do they?" he laughs and kisses Ann on the cheek.

"Hey, Christopher!" Lucy says as she and Boone run past him on the stairs.

"What's with those two?" Christopher asks walking into the den. "They're like a couple of teenagers." Everyone laughs.

"Well you clean up real nice, nephew," JR says. "You have date comin' to join us?"

Christopher furls his brow at his uncle. "You really think I'd bring a girl into this lion's den tonight? No way Uncle JR. I'm solo, thanks."

JR holds his hands up in astonishment.

"John Ross coming?" Christopher says.

"Yeah. Yeah, he'll be here….if he knows what's good for him," JR trails off.

* * *

Sue Ellen sits in her Porsche turning the key over in her hand. She finally puts it in the ignition and shakes her head. Before driving off, she pulls down the vanity mirror one more time and checks her lipstick. Is it too red? She grabs a tissue from her purse to wipe it off, then balls it up.

"Come on! If you're going to wear red, own it. What's the matter with me?" she says. A laugh escapes her lips and she sees her smiling face in the mirror. Pleased, she snaps it closed. The digital clock on her dash reads 5:33 p.m. "Miss Texas en route," she says and guns the Porsche out of her driveway.

* * *

Elena paces between her kitchen and dining area. "Why are you doing this to me, John Ross?" she says and looks out the front window again. It's 5:52 p.m. She takes a bottled water out of the fridge and gulps half of it down, then holds the chilled bottle to her forehead. It's 5:54 p.m.

"God! Asshole," she says. Elena writes a note, grabs her black coat from the hook by the front door and walks out.

"I went over already. THANKS," the note taped to her door says.

Walking toward the open patio doors, she hears conversation and some laughter. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Hello?" she calls as she walks inside. Off to the left, she sees her mother standing over steaming pots in the kitchen. Carmen looks up, smiles and waves her over.

"Well look who's here!" JR says. "Elena, come on in here, honey. I was just about to think you lost your nerve." JR laughs loudly.

Elena pivots on her white strappy high heels and walks straight into the den. "Not a chance, JR. Sorry to disappoint you."

JR smiles as Bobby steps between them. "Elena, how are you, honey? You look beautiful. Would you like a drink?"

"Thank you Bobby, I'll have a double scotch, neat, please," Elena says. JR raises his eyebrows.

"Well, at least you've got one thing in common with the Ewings," JR says.

"JR - " Bobby says.

"Oh come on now, just a little joke," JR says. "Where's that boy of mine, anyhow?"

"He should be here any minute," Elena says.

The doorbell rings. Elena smiles with relief.

Carmen wipes her hands on her apron and rushes to the front door.

"Oh, good evening Sue Ellen, please come in. May I take your wrap?" Carmen asks.

Sue Ellen smiles. "Thank you, Carmen, please."

"Six o'clock on the dot!" JR yells from the den upon hearing Sue Ellen's voice. He quickly finishes pouring his drink and hurries to the foyer.

"Now why'd you come in this side, Sue Ellen, you know the back - " he stops in his tracks.

Sue Ellen stands in the middle of the foyer in a fire engine red dress with small peplums on each hip. The torso is fitted, the collar high and the sleeves long. Her hair is swept up in a loose French twist. Gold cascading diamond and ruby earrings travel the length of her neck and sparkle in the bright light from the chandelier above. JR's eyes drink her in, from her head down to her toes encased in light beige suede stiletto boots embroidered with small red roses up the outer shafts. Sue Ellen turns to hand Carmen her cream cashmere wrap and JR sees a triangle of her lightly tanned back in the cut out of the dress. She turns back around and her deep red lips smile at him.

She walks over and gives him a hug. "Your mouth's open, JR," she whispers in his ear. He smiles, tight lipped and embarrassed, then kisses her on the cheek, inhaling her perfume deeply.

"Well! Well now, here's Sue Ellen!" JR says. Christopher laughs at his uncle's obvious swooning and Bobby shushes him.

"Evenin' everybody," Sue Ellen says, greeting them with hugs.

"Where's John Ross?" she asks.

"Why don't you ask Elena, over here?" JR says. "She knows our boy's whereabouts better than we do."

Elena steps out of the den's shadow. "I spoke to him about 5:30. He said he was on his way," she says and nervously fingers her hair.

Sue Ellen smiles at her. "Nice to see you, Elena."

"Sue Ellen, I'm sorry we weren't at your rally today," Elena says.

Sue Ellen holds her hand up, "It's alright. Everyone's busy. I understand," she says although she's becoming tired of hearing herself say that.

The rest of the Ewings make their way over to the dinner table. Lucy and Boone come down the stairs hand-in-hand.

"Oh hey Sue Ellen! Boy, did you rile Boone up today!" Lucy says.

"Not now, Lucy," Boone says, putting his arm around her neck in a loose choke hold. "We got to talk later, Sue Ellen," he says softly and shuffles Lucy into the dining room.

On his way to the table, JR looks out the patio doors for John Ross' car. It's 6:10 p.m. JR's mouth tightens and he locks the doors.

Some are already seated by the time JR enters the dining room. "Wait a minute now, just hold on a minute," he says. The chatter stops. "No disrespect to anyone, but there's gonna be some new seating arrangements for Sunday dinner," he says. Lucy's eyes widen and she kicks Boone's leg under the table. "Now I'm gonna take Daddy's seat and as the mother of my child, Sue Ellen you go on and sit right here in Mama's chair," JR says and walks toward the table's end. Ann looks cooly at JR and then at Bobby, already sitting opposite her at the other end of the table.

"What's this about, JR?….Bobby?" Ann says.

"This is about carrying on tradition," JR says too forcefully. "Traditions that were in place long before you set foot on my Mama's land - "

"JR!" Bobby yells.

"Now I said no disrespect, and I meant it," JR says calmly. "But unless you get up out of that chair, you're disrespecting me," JR says to Ann. "I am the first born Ewing at this goddamn table and Sue Ellen is my wife - "

"Ex-wife," Ann corrects.

"Whatever," JR says. "Fact remains I will take the head of this table and Sue Ellen will sit opposite me. Right now if you please."

Ann looks at Bobby who shrugs his shoulders and gets up. "I don't care where I sit. Just give me some of that delicious smelling food. I'm starving!" he jokes and gets up. "Come on over here by me, Annie. Honey, right here," Bobby says and pats a chair on the side of the table. Ann slowly rises and glares at Sue Ellen on her way to Bobby. JR pulls the chair out for Sue Ellen and she sits down, trying to hide the smirky smile tugging at her lips. Carmen pours her a tonic water and puts a small silver dish of cut limes down. Ann sits next to Bobby who takes her hand. She pulls it away.

"Like I said, this is gonna be interesting," Boone whispers to Lucy.

Just as JR sits back down, a sports car engine revs up the back drive.

JR throws his napkin on the table. It's 6:15. "Don't fight me on this, Sue Ellen," he says, getting up from the table and going to the patio doors.

"What's happening?" Sue Ellen says, also rising. She comes into the den to see John Ross running around his car and toward the doors. He sees JR and smiles. He tries the patio door and looks puzzled that it's locked as his father stands right in front of him on the other side.

"Dad! Open the door, would ya? It's locked."

"John Ross!" Sue Ellen says and walks up behind JR, smiling.

"You're late, boy," JR shouts through the glass.

"Yeah well I'm here now. Come on, Dad. It's just barely past 6," he yells and tries the door again.

JR gets right up against the glass door and yells, "Get out of here John Ross! Go on home until you can respect me and your mother, hell even your goddamn girlfriend was on time."

"What?" John Ross laughs. "Dad! Stop being dramatic. Open the damn door!"

JR swiftly slides one door open and steps out while shoving John Ross backwards into the patio furniture.

"JR!" Sue Ellen cries and runs outside.

"Get inside, Sue Ellen. Let me handle this man-to-man. Go on now!"

"Mama get this crazy man off of me!" John Ross yells as JR pulls him up by his collar.

Sue Ellen stays at the open door. "JR, please!"

"Why didn't you go to your Mama's rally today?" JR says. Sue Ellen looks away. "That's disgraceful. Ewings support each other in things like this," JR shouts.

"Because you shot my tire out! It's your fault I couldn't go!"

JR slaps John Ross across the face. Sue Ellen gasps.

"Uh uh. No son. Don't you lie to my face in my own house. Elena would have took you. She said so. I would have too, had you asked." JR says.

Sue Ellen walks back inside, wounded. Another Southfork spectacle holds the mirror of truth up to her. She sits back down in Miss Ellie's chair, wishing the matriarch were here now. Sue Ellen runs her hands over the chair's armrests, trying to connect to Miss Ellie's wisdom. How would she react to this? Moments later, when Sue Ellen hears John Ross' car speed off, she knows. She knows she can't continue pretending anymore. JR and the rest of the family return to the table. Most of them look at Sue Ellen as they scoot their chairs in silence.

"Well now, where were we?" JR says.

"Thank you, JR," Sue Ellen simply says.

"Alright, honey," JR says. "Don't you worry. We'll get him turned right way 'round, you'll see," he says and winks.

"Now if you'll all raise your glasses with me please, I'd like to make a toast before we eat. To Mama and Daddy," JR says and stands. Everyone raises their glasses. "To the finest examples of strength, honor, love and family. We gather here at your table to enjoy Sunday dinner, and each other," JR says and looks at Sue Ellen. "The Ewings are together again. We all love and miss you," JR says and lowers his head.

"Here, here!" Bobby says and everyone repeats it. "To Mama and Daddy", Bobby says, glasses clink and they all drink.

As the group falls into casual conversation, Elena looks at John Ross' empty chair beside her. She scans the opulent dining room, the fine china and crystal on the table. Soon her own mother appears with a serving cart and begins placing covered entrees in front of the guests. _I don't belong here_, Elena thinks to herself. When she looks up from the table, JR is staring at her.


	19. Chapter 19

_*Special thanks to Isabel, MrsBates93 and Supsi85 for your insightful reviews! I continue to appreciate you taking time to comment. Isabel, your comment about capturing the real Dallas made my head explode. That's a good thing, btw. I devour everyone's feedback like a delicious meal :_)

* * *

Officer Jensen cuts his lights off and rolls up the street slowly, stopping in front of Sue Ellen's darkened house. Beads of sweat roll down the sides of his face. He turns off the dispatch radio on his belt and checks his watch; 30 minutes since he tailed her out to Southfork ranch. Time to make a move. He walks confidently up the drive, long Mag flashlight in hand. The homes on either side of Sue Ellen's are also dark and still. Perfect.

He bangs his flashlight handle on the door for effect and calls out, "Police! Open up please. Prowler call." No response and still no activity next door.

Jensen walks around to the side and tries to scale the tall black wrought iron gate. His arms strain as he maneuvers his lower body to clear the pointed tips. Swinging his second leg over, a rod tip pokes his inner thigh and scrapes along the pant leg.

"Dammit!" he cries out as his thigh burns with pain. He curses Sue Ellen for the alarm that prevents him from simply slipping the front door lock. Jensen drops down the fence and scans the large backyard. Two big dog houses in the opposite corner, behind a fence separating them from the pool. Dogs. He hadn't figured Sue Ellen Ewing to be a dog person. He readies his Mace canister and creeps slowly along the house's perimeter, looking for a bathroom window hoping she, like so many, left one open for steam release.

Ruby turns the corner onto her street. "Well looky here. No rest for the wicked", she says upon seeing the police car parked next door. She glances at Paul in her rear view mirror, driving behind her. Poor boy's eyes look wide as full moons. "Don't you worry none," she says in her car. "Me and you gonna wipe this stain away."

They pull into Ruby's driveway. She hops out of the truck more nimbly than her old legs should allow and rushes over to Paul holding her finger to her lips to keep him quiet. Paul locks the Cadillac and she rushes him in the the house's back door and through to the kitchen.

"What's going on?" he says, glancing over his shoulder out the back door window.

"That devil's come a callin'," Ruby says. "Right on time."

"What? The police car outside, it's the officer who hassled me? How you know that Miss Ruby?"

Ruby answers the question with one look.

"Where's he?," Paul says, looking anxious.

"Up in Sue Ellen's place, I reckon," Ruby says.

"What? Why?" Paul says and peers out the kitchen window at Sue Ellen's house.

"He's lookin' for somethin' that pulls the curtain from his evil deeds," Ruby says. "Now that's the last of your questions. We only got but a stitch to get this done right. Go on fetch me what I need to make my special drink."

Ruby removes her white gloves and sets her bible and little purse down on the kitchen table. She turns back around to find Paul still standing there.

"Hey boy!" Ruby yells and claps her hands in front of his face. "Come on now! We got to hurry. I can't reach them things up high. Go on get it for me, right now."

"I don't know, Miss Ruby. Maybe this is not a good idea. He was real ugly to me, I know, but he don't deserve to - "

"Shut your mouth. You ain't got no idea what needs doin' right now. It's a helluva lot bigger than you. Ain't that just like people. Always thinking about themselves. Lord hammercy," Ruby says, shaking her head. "Now listen. This one here's a bad man. He's gonna keep on with you, Sue Ellen, whomever, because he likes it. He likes puttin' the fear on people. And he's an officer of the law. Ain't that a hoot," Ruby says.

"No. He done made his choice a long time ago," she says. "He's deep on the other side. Ruint. And he's got to go. Now get me my fixings and let me see this fool to the door before he gets another black boy down on his knees and don't let him up next time."

Paul swallows hard and gets the step stool out of the utility closet. He climbs up and removes several small bottles from a locked tin, placing them carefully on the counter in front of Ruby who waits with two red paper cups.

"That's right. Thank you honey. Now you go on out of here. Go to the parlor and you holler if you see him walkin' to that police car," Ruby says.

Paul hurries out of the kitchen.

Ruby prepares the ingredients with hands covered with blue Latex gloves. She pours lemon juice and ginger ale into the cup. Then measures the right amount of potassium cyanide to kill a 200-pound man. She slowly stirs the drink, careful not to foam the carbonation, places a few ice cubes in and spritzes a lime wedge on top.

She walks to the parlor where Paul sits at the window staring at the police car. He jumps when she speaks. "Paul, you come out the house when you see him take a cup from me, and not a minute before. You hear? You just step out and wave at him from the veranda. Smile real big. Don't say nothin'. Just wave and smile and everything will go as it should. We can't have him going down on Sue Ellen's property. No sir!" Ruby says and laughs.

Paul slowly nods his head, eyes still wide and jumpy.

"Alright then," Ruby says. "It's on like Donkey Kong! Ain't that what the young folks say?"

Paul stares at her, speechless. She pats him on the shoulder with vigor and walks away.

Ruby mutters something and crosses herself before walking out the back kitchen door. She inhales deeply and follows the bad man's familiar stench, hoping he's not yet inside Sue Ellen's house. She unlocks the pass through gate between their homes' backyards and calls out, "Yoooo hoooo!"

Jensen stops prying the bathroom window screen off and listens. "Helloooo! Police man?" he hears.

He quickly steps off the overturned fruit crate beneath the window, wipes the sweat from his face and says, "Who's there?" poking his head around the corner, hand on his holster. _Well I'll be damned. The church lady._

"Huh! Jensen? What are you up to, boy?" Ruby says, holding two cups in her hands.

"How do, Miss Monroe? Well isn't this a surprise. You live next door?" Jensen asks, fists clenched.

"Yes, yes, right there. Mrs. Ewing ain't home, Jensen," Ruby says and cocks her head.

"Right. I see that. Just investigating a prowler call. You best get inside for now ma'am," he says. "For your safety."

"Is that right? Very well. I'll call Sue Ellen home this instant to talk to you. She ain't far," Ruby says.

Jensen wipes his sweating forehead again. "No, hold on now. No need for that. I've uh, I've secured the property. False alarm. I'll be on my way. You better lock up good this evenin', just in case," he says and hurries past Ruby.

"Well hold on now," she says. "Let me unlock the gate for you. No use climbing back over them pointed rods," Ruby says with a big smile.

"Oh…..much obliged," he says.

"Sure is a hot sticky evening, ain't it?" she asks. "Hold this for me, would you," Ruby says handing Jensen one of the cups and fishing keys out of her pocket.

Little carbonation bubbles fizz and pop above the cup. Jensen gets a whiff of refreshing lime and ginger. He sniffs the liquid.

"Nice isn't it?," she says as he gives the cup back to her. "I brought this over for Sue Ellen. Thought I heard her come home but then I saw the police car out front," she says as Jensen rushes past her and out the gate.

"Hold on there, Jensen. Just wait a minute," Ruby says.

Jensen sighs. "I got to get back on patrol, Miss Monroe."

"Yeah, 'course you do. But I'm fixin' to apologize to you," Ruby says.

Jensen stops and turns around. "Come again?"

"That's right. I didn't treat you so good today and well, I got to thinking…" Ruby says.

Jensen puts his hands on his hips. "And?"

"And…I'm sorry for it," she says.

Jensen puffs out his chest and bears a slow grin. "Well. Isn't that nice. You were mighty rude, yes indeed. Police officers deserve respect, Miss Monroe."

"That they do, boy" Ruby says.

"And, it's Officer Jensen," he says.

Ruby steps forward and smiles. "You're right. Absolutely right. Tell you what, Officer Jensen, take this cold drink with you as a token of my apology, would you please? It's hot as hell out here and that wool uniform must have you wet as October," she says and holds the cup out to him.

Jensen licks his dry lips. _Fool old woman. Better learn your place._ He takes the cup and just before sipping, Paul comes out on the front veranda. He waves at Jensen, smiles widely and sits in the rocking chair. Jensen's eyes narrow and pulse quickens. He looks at Ruby who raises her cup at him and takes a drink.

"I thought you said he was your house man," Jensen says.

"That's right."

"Then what's he doing relaxing on the porch? Shouldn't he be tending to something?" Jensen says in a mocking tone.

Ruby's eyes look ice blue as she watches this lost soul's last few minutes on earth. "He's all done with chores. Ain't nothin' need cleaning up right now," she says and winks.

Jensen glares at Paul who is still smiling. A gust of warm wind swirls some leaves around. The officer raises the cup to his lips and gulps the cold drink down. He wipes his mouth on his hand and tosses the empty cup on Ruby's front lawn.

"I can't stand to look at y'all no more. There's somethin' untoward going on here," he hisses while pointing his finger in Ruby's face.

His face twisted in disgust, he drives off without another word, or the missing glove he came for.

Just after turning the street corner two minutes later, Jensen veers onto the main road. His head pounds and he cannot catch his breath. His vision doubles, foam starts bubbling out of his mouth and his skin turns cherry red. Within five minutes, Officer Jensen rolls into the intersection against a red light, slumped over the steering wheel dead. A cable company van crossing on the green light slams into the driver's side of his police car, sliding it up and over the curb.

* * *

Christopher excuses himself from the dinner table to use the restroom, wanting to reach John Ross before he's too drunk for reason. In the privacy of the bathroom Christopher texts him.

"You F'd up tonight, cousin. You hurt your mom. Make an effort, would you? You're lucky to have her and you'll be sorry when she's gone."

He presses the 'send' button without hesitation. On his way back to the table, Sue Ellen appears in the dim hallway walking toward him. She looks down at the floor and only notices him when they are just feet from each other.

"Oh, Christopher," she smiles half heartedly, her eyes dull with weary.

Christopher takes her hand and kisses her on the cheek without a word. Sue Ellen squeezes his hand and quickly walks to the powder room before her emotions betray her.

Behind the locked door of the powder room, she looks at herself in the mirror and touches the cheek her nephew just kissed in sympathy for his cousin's cold behavior. Such contrasting boys, Sue Ellen thinks. Christopher wears his emotions on his sleeve and John Ross works so hard to hide his. There's certainly something to be said for being tough, as she's sure JR would agree. But a little kindness is the most powerful thing in the world.

Sue Ellen sits down on the vanity stool and has a quick cry, trying not to ruin her make-up.

* * *

"Well where's Sue Ellen gone?" JR says. "Food's getting cold…Sue Ellen!"

"I passed her on the way to the ladies room," Christopher says. "You know how that goes, primping and all. I'm sure she'll be right back."

JR swallows his filet mignon. "I thought she might be upstairs, taking a stroll down memory lane," he laughs. "Whole lotta memories up there, isn't that right Bobby?"

Ann's eyes narrow at JR, and then Bobby.

Bobby clears his throat. "Say JR, you went to Sue Ellen's rally today, didn't you? What was it like, seeing her talk to the voters?"

JR's expression softens. "That was a sight, it really was. She did real good, did us Ewings proud," he says and takes gulp of water. Ann rolls her eyes and Lucy notices.

"Every one of those poor slobs was clapping and yelling out her name by the end of it," JR says. Some of 'em even called her 'mother' in Mexican, or something like that."

"Spanish," Elena says.

"What's that, darlin'?" JR says.

"You said 'Mexican'. That's not a language. It's Spanish," Elena says.

"Sure, honey. Whatever you say," JR says and smiles.

Sue Ellen returns to the table and Bobby pulls out her chair. "Thank you, Bobby."

"You alright, honey?" Jr asks. "You look a little funny. You sick or something?"

"I'm fine, JR. Just a long day," Sue Ellen says.

"JR was just telling us about your rally. Good for you, Sue Ellen. Sounds like it went really well," Bobby says.

"Yes, I'd say it did. Felt like I really connected with the audience," she says, beaming. "You know many of them only have Sundays off work. I was surprised they spent it with me."

"Well a lot of them are probably new citizens and take voting very seriously," says Elena. "People are murdered for political expression every day right across the border."

"Wha, wha," Boone says. Everyone looks at him. Lucy laughs.

"Oh," he says, embarrassed. "Y'all don't know 'wha, wha'? Like when someone brings the conversation down by sayin' something too serious, you go 'wha, wha'." No one says anything. "Well there's a skit on one of the late night shows that does it. It's real….funny," he says and looks around the table.

JR slaps him on the shoulder and laughs. "You just say whatever's on your mind, don't you boy?"

"Well I reckon I do, JR," Boone says.

"I like that," JR says with a wink. "No fear."

"I even got some press today," Sue Ellen says to change the subject.

"Oh yeah, we know all about - " Lucy says before Boone interrupts her.

"Was that my little brother's handy work?" Boone asks. "He doin' right by you, Sue Ellen?"

Sue Ellen smiles. "He's wonderful. Mark's smart, savvy, loyal and….kind. He's a fine young man with a promising future."

"If all that were true, you'd think he'd have himself a wife by now. Or at least a girlfriend," Lucy says. "If John Ross doesn't get it together soon, maybe we'll set Mark up with Elena here." Elena nearly chokes on her iced tea.

"Lucy!" Ann says. "Don't make her uncomfortable."

"What? It's a compliment," Lucy says. Boone shakes his head.

Sue Ellen gasps while looking at her phone. "My goodness!" she says.

"What's wrong Sue Ellen?" Lucy says.

"Nothing, no. Nothing's wrong. It's just, I got an email from my website. Someone's made a big donation to my campaign, a hundred thousand dollars," Sue Ellen says, shocked.

"Who? Who did that?" JR says.

"I don't think you need to know, JR," Sue Ellen says.

"Well sure I do - "

"Why? So you can start pestering this donor, asking him what he wants in return?" Sue Ellen says and smiles.

"So it's a man, huh? Well that's trouble right there," JR says. "You better give me that name Sue Ellen. Let me make sure he's legit."

Sue Ellen waves JR off. "My staff can handle that."

"Is it Blake Sherwood? It's him isn't it?" JR presses on. "I told him you and I were talkin' about coal seam gas and those damn fracking bans the other day. He was real interested in talking to you about it."

"No. It's not Blake Sherwood," Sue Ellen says, enjoying this.

"Well come on Sue Ellen, I'm gonna find out sooner or later," JR says.

"Yes, later. A lot later, like after the election," Sue Ellen says. Everyone laughs. "Now stop it, JR. I'm too tired for this. In fact, I should go soon and get to bed. I almost feel like I could fall asleep driving home."

"Well hold on, honey. Just hold on. That brings me right to the next order of business," JR says. Ann stops mid-chew, puts her silverware down and glares at him. Carmen begins preparing coffee at the sideboard.

"Carmen, would you excuse us for a bit please?" JR says. "We'll help ourselves to coffee."

Elena tenses up.

"Of course, Mr. Ewing," Carmen says.

JR gets up and pours himself a cup, taking his time with cream and sugar. "Anyone else, while I'm up?"

"For god's sake, JR, out with it," Bobby says.

JR turns back around, smiling. He sits back down and takes a long sip of coffee. "Mmmm, that sure is good coffee," he says. Sue Ellen smirks at him.

Lucy leans into Boone and both watch JR. He looks up at the ceiling and rubs his chin, as if searching for words. No one buys it.

"Now, I don't mean to upset anyone," JR says.

"But?" Ann says.

JR smiles. "But, I'm gonna need you to move out of that cottage, honey," he says to Elena.

Elena's eyes widen. She looks at Ann who is speechless, then back at JR. "Don't you call me honey," Elena says. "That's a term of endearment and you've shown nothing but contempt for me since you came home," she says.

"Whoa she told you, JR!" Lucy says.

"Lucy why don't you stick another one of those dinner rolls in your mouth?" JR says.

"Hey now!" Boone says but JR holds up his hand.

"Don't get all worked up about this hon-, Elena," JR continues. "Nothing personal. Now I don't know how you came to live at Southfork but - "

"I offered her the cottage when we hired Carmen," Ann says, furious. "Elena helped with the horses before she started working, not that I owe you an explanation."

"Isn't that nice. Well Christopher's got that covered now, what with his thoroughbred business. So you're just living here scott free, is that right, _E-lena_?"

"JR, there's no need to be rude," Sue Ellen says.

"No one's being rude, Sue Ellen," he says. "I'm just stating a fact, that's all. Look, Southfork is Ewing land. Ewings live on it. And Elena, you're about as Ewing as your mama over there in the kitchen." Elena's eyes start to water.

"That cottage is gonna be Sue Ellen's place to stay when she comes in from Austin for Sunday dinner, and whenever else we have the pleasure of her company for family functions." He looks at Sue Ellen, "I don't want you driving back and forth from Southfork to town after your flights. Too hectic. You're liable not to come, understandably," JR says.

"Sue Ellen!" Ann yells. "Are you gonna let him get away with this?"

Sue Ellen holds JR's gaze a moment longer. Then faces Ann, "I don't see what I have to say in the matter, Ann. He's not gonna listen to me."

"Bobby?" Ann says.

Bobby looks pained. "Annie, you didn't tell me when you made this arrangement with Elena or I would have told you JR would never stand for it."

"He wasn't even here!" Ann says. "Now he shows up seven years later and he's king of the castle? Bullshit!"

"Wait a minute Annie, Sue Ellen _is_ John Ross' mother," Bobby says.

Elena jumps up from her chair. "Ann, thank you for everything. You've always been nice to me." She turns to JR, "I'll be out by the end of the week," she says and runs out of the house.

"Make it Friday, honey!" JR yells after her. "I'll have that cleaned and ready for you by next Sunday, Sue Ellen. Now if y'all will excuse us," JR says walking over to her chair, "I've got something to show you, darlin'," he says and offers his arm. Sue Ellen looks around the table at all the Ewing faces in different states of shock. Then Christopher smiles at her.

"Well. That was a…..lovely dinner," she says and takes JR's arm.

"Carmen!" JR yells in the foyer.

"Yes, Mr. Ewing?" she says hurrying in from the kitchen. She notices Elena's empty chair.

"Would you get Sue Ellen's wrap, please?"

"Of course."

Carmen returns holding the wrap out for Sue Ellen. She pulls it tight around herself and JR leads her out the front door into the cool dusk of early evening. Sue Ellen is smiling, making JR smile even wider.


	20. Chapter 20

John Ross' cell phone vibrates in his jean pocket, interrupting his flirting with the shy red head in the green dress a few seats down at the bar. He motions to the bar tender for another whiskey.

The bar tender places the fourth drink in front of John Ross who tosses a $50 bill on the bar and says, "Keep the change, buddy."

"Hey thanks a lot, Mr. Ewing," the bar tender says and rings the brass tip bell.

Green dress gives John Ross a sideways look.

"What's your name, darlin'?" he says looking straight ahead, startling her.

"Who? Me?" she says.

"Of course, you," he says turning to face her across the three empty seats between them. "Why would I talk to anyone else when someone as pretty as you is sittin' right here?"

She blushes, pink blotches forming down her pale neck and decolletage. John Ross' blurry, blood shot eyes remove her green dress and hold their gaze at the end of her cleavage between breasts tastefully but tightly framed in emerald silk. Her big green eyes and their long black lashes look away from him. He smiles lopsidedly and scoots next to her, scraping his metal bar stool loudly across the floor. She pushes her fiery red curls out of her face; a faint jasmine scent lingers.

"Evenin'," John Ross says, their elbows touching on the bar counter. The girl smiles and moves back a little.

"Mr. Ewing, huh?" she says, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right. And uh, don't believe anything you've heard….unless it's about oil, money or charm," John Ross says with a wink. "John Ross Ewing the third, how _do_ you do, Miss…?"

"West. Mae Lynn West."

John Ross laughs a sloppy giggle. "Mae West? Are you serious?"

"Very."

"Well I'll be damned. A red headed, present day Mae West. Good thing I missed my damn dinner date," he says and finishes his drink. "What are you doin' here all by yourself, Mae West?"

"Waiting for someone," she says and sips her dirty martini. Red lipstick stains the rim of the glass.

"Well. The wait's over. You're in the right place at the very right time, darlin'," he says, swipes the lipstick stain with his finger and licks it. "Here I am."

He brushes her long red hair back with his hand. "I do love red hair. Tell me something, are you a natural red head?"

She narrows her eyes at John Ross and pushes her martini away. "Yes, John Ross Ewing the third, I sure am."

"Care to prove it?" he asks, smiling.

She reapplies her lipstick and gets up from the bar stool. John Ross also rises. He steps back and right into a tall, broad-shouldered older man.

"Hey Daddy," Mae West says, kissing the man on the cheek. "Meet my father, Senator Coleman West."

"Oh, who's this?" the Senator says, extending his hand.

"Nobody," his daughter says and walks away.

John Ross watches dumbfounded as the Wests walk into the restaurant's dining room.

"Bar tender! Another!" he shouts and pulls his cell out of his pocket to check the earlier notification, hoping it was a booty call.

He reads Christopher's text, sighs and presses 'delete'.

* * *

The glowing orange sun hangs low at Southfork, casting far-reaching shadows of trees across the green pastures. The afternoon wind has died down. Now the crickets' serenade is the only sound besides JR and Sue Ellen's footsteps on the dirt path. They walk arm-in-arm toward a Southfork truck. JR jingles keys in his pocket.

Sue Ellen looks at his face. He's still smiling. "You're real proud of yourself, aren't you?" she says.

"You bet, sugar. And you're proud of me too, don't deny it," he says, pushing his brown Stetson brim up. She tries to stop the smile spreading across her face. JR laughs and leads her to the truck's passenger door.

"Where are you taking me, JR? I want to get home before dark to let the dogs out. And I'm tired."

"Now come on Sue Ellen, play along would you? You've gotta see this. You'll be home to your damn dogs before long, alright? Now go on, get in the truck please."

She shakes her head and steps up into the truck. She sticks her feet out the open door, "Brush that dust off my suede boots, please JR. These are expensive."

JR sighs and takes a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. He snaps it across her boots several times as she stifles giggles. "Alright?" he shouts.

"Much better, thank you," she says. JR closes her door and goes around to the driver's side with a spring in his step. As they drive off, Ann watches from an upstairs window.

JR turns onto another road to one of the ranch's back sections.

"JR if you're driving me out to see a damn oil well, let me save us both the trouble. Oil doesn't do anything for me anymore. Sorry to disappoint you."

JR smiles at her. "Just hold that sharp tongue of yours, Sue Ellen. You're gonna love this. And it'll be good for you, trust me."

"That's a tall order," she says. Her cell phone rings. She looks at the screen, "It's John Ross."

JR shakes his head. "Not now. You're busy. Ignore it. He had his chance, you talk to him later," he says.

Sue Ellen bites her lip. _I'm putty in his hands, I love him so much._ "Hello John Ross," she answers. JR tries to grab her phone.

"Mama, are you still at Southfork?"

"Yes."

"Still? Well, I hope you don't believe what Daddy said about me. I wanted to go to your rally but he - "

"Stop it. Don't blame your father. That was your choice. And it was a cruel one," she says. JR settles down, listening.

"I don't know why you act this way with me and honestly, I don't care to know your reasons," she says. "I love you John Ross, so much, but grow up. Let go of all this anger and take responsibility for your own happiness. Now I'm busy and I can't talk, so good night," she says and hangs up. She looks out her window, trying not to cry. The line's been drawn. No turning back now.

JR clears his throat. "That was real good, honey. He'll - "

"JR, don't. Just, be quiet."

He raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth to speak but doesn't. Moments later he turns the truck along a curve in the road and up a short incline over a rolling hill. "There she is. Would you look at that! Beautiful," he says.

Sue Ellen's mouth falls open. A hot air balloon's twin burners shoot bright propane flames up into it's white envelope. She can make out a big black and gold "JR" on the side of the balloon from here. Sue Ellen gasps.

"You bought a balloon? And you put your name on it? Who does that?" she yells, rolling down the tinted window to get a better look.

"JR Ewing, honey, that's who!" he says, throws his head back and laughs. "Hooo wheee! Isn't that somethin'!"

"Does Bobby know? Does _Ann_?" she says.

"Why should they? This is my goddamn balloon and you're the only one who's gonna ride in it, Sue Ellen. I got this for you, honey."

"For me? Well, JR…I….That's very nice but when….what are we gonna do with it?"

JR parks the truck. "We're gonna float in the sky above all this nonsense down here, just you and me. We're gonna talk, and listen, or maybe we'll shut our mouths and just watch the clouds roll by. That's what we're gonna do, Sue Ellen. Now come on. We're losin' light."

"You're joking. We're not actually going up in that. Are we?"

"Come on, woman. Give me your hand, sugar, I won't let anything happen to you," JR says.

Sue Ellen does give her hand, against her better judgement, and as if on cue the propane tanks blast orange and blue flames with a great whooshing sound. The attendant smiles and waves at them, stepping out of the wicker basket. Sue Ellen holds JR's hand tighter the closer they come to the balloon.

"You ready for flight, JR?" the man says as they shake hands.

"I was born ready, boy!" JR says. "This is Sue Ellen. Sue Ellen, meet Sam." Sue Ellen nods. The balloon pulls against its anchors and the basket sways.

"Alright, then!" Sam says. "Have a great flight! You're in good hands, Sue Ellen," he says.

"What? Wait a minute. What do you mean? You're not coming with us?" she asks.

"No ma'am! JR here got himself certified. He's an official balloon aviator, recognized by the great state of Texas. JR you might be some kind of record, you know that? I ain't never instructed someone as old as you before, no offense!" he jokes. JR laughs.

"Oh no. No! JR you've lost your mind if you think I'm going up in this with you. This is insane," Sue Ellen says and turns to walk away.

"Sue Ellen, listen to me. There's nothing like this. You've got to experience it. It's the greatest feeling in the world. You won't believe it," JR says, his face lighting up like an excited little boy.

"JR -" she protests.

He interrupts, "Don't you ever feel like you're up against the wall, Sue Ellen? Don't tell me you don't," JR says, still holding her hand.

"Well of course but doesn't everyone?" she says.

"Sue Ellen, time's chasing us down at this point in our lives. You get up in this damn balloon and I tell you, time stops. It just stops and everything falls away when you cast those sandbags off and float up, light as air. No worry, no regret, nothing up in that sky," he says.

"JR a balloon ride's not going to stop life from happening. It's called aging and you've just got to deal with it," she says, fighting the urge to touch his face.

"Listen Sue Ellen, I'm not trying to be a young man again. I'm happy to be alive. I'm thankful each morning I open my eyes and don't see the fires of hell, where you so often told me to go. This isn't about that. This is different," JR says and takes Sue Ellen's face in his hands. "It's healing, honey. Please, let me let me do this for you. We'll just fly across Southfork's acres. I'm asking you to trust me."

JR's blue eyes cut right through Sue Ellen's defenses. His hands are warm and strong against her cold cheeks and she is a young beauty queen once more. All the hope and promise of 30 years ago rises to the surface. In this moment, JR is her knight again.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she says.

"Darlin', I always know what I'm doing. You oughta know that by now."

* * *

Ruby climbs up the veranda steps clutching her right hip and slowly sits down in the rocker next to Paul's. The two rock back and forth in silence as the emergency response sirens get closer and closer. Paul catches a glimpse of an ambulance rushing past their street corner on its way to the crash at the intersection. His eyes widen again.

"Miss Ruby," he whispers, "what if he ain't dead?"

"He's dead alright," she says.

"How can you be certain?"

Ruby sighs. "Now get ready to hold your tongue. Can't have no hollerin' from you out here," she says. Paul looks confused. "I am certain he's dead because he's standin' right here," she says and nods her head at the front lawn. "He don't want to go."

Paul sucks in his breath and stops rocking. His eyes dart all over the front yard, looking for something he can't see. He slowly rises from the rocking chair and walks backwards to the front door.

"Oh come on, boy. Don't catch a fright. Ain't nothin' he can do to you now," Ruby turns around to face Paul. "And listen here, if the law come around and ask you about this, you tell 'em what I done. You understand? You tell them I poisoned the son of a bitch. Say I told you I did. You don't know nothin' more about it. You hear?"

Paul nods from behind the screen door and disappears into the darkness of the foyer.

"Now go on!" Ruby shouts at the front lawn. "Get out of here. Nothin' I can do for you. You settle it with the Lord." She takes a long sip of her ginger ale drink and resumes rocking. A piece of paper blows across the porch and Ruby steps on it. "Maxine's Dog Walking Service", it advertises. Smiling, she walks over and drops it into Sue Ellen's mail slot.

* * *

Sue Ellen tosses her boots into a corner of the balloon's basket, feeling more steady on stocking feet as the compartment sways in the gentle wind, its anchor ropes taught and squeaking against the steel loops in the cement platform.

"Sam, you have the crew ready for landing in about 45 minutes," JR yells above the blasts of propane from the burners. Sue Ellen's stomach is knotted with anxiety and her breathing shallow. Both hands grip the basket railing so tight her fingers are cramping. She looks up the hole in the envelop. Big mistake. The balloon looks to be as high as the Eiffel tower. _This is ridiculous. And dangerous._

The balloon basket lurches upward with each rope Sam casts away. JR tests his radio with one of Sam's men again and gives Sue Ellen a thumbs up but all she hears are static sounds and beeps. He secures his hat and stands confidently under the burner valves. Sue Ellen looks terrified and JR laughs.

"Shut up, JR!" she says. "This is a stupid idea that'll leave our son orphaned."

"Oh come on now, honey! Everything's gonna be fine! It's simple. Hot air goes up, cool air goes down. That's all I got to do here," he says, stifling another laugh.

"Is that right? Well I don't see you floating away, as much hot air comes out of your mouth," she says.

JR blasts the burners with a hearty laugh and the balloon travels smoothly but swiftly upward. Sue Ellen gasps as they're 50, 100, 200 feet high in no time, soon way above the tallest Southfork trees.

"There. No turnin' back now, honey," JR says. "Just relax and enjoy the view. Let me get us up over this ridge here and then we'll float steady, climbing's almost over, alright?" Sue Ellen nods.

He slowly opens the burner valves all the way and a blast of orange flame shoots upward with a whoosh. Sue Ellen feels a slight misting on her face as the balloon really climbs high, traveling westward over the dark green rolling hills. When they clear the ridge, she gasps at the sight.

"Oh…" is all she says, removing her Aviator sunglasses for a better look.

The sun is setting right in front of them and the huge pink orb looks close enough to touch. The light blue sky is dappled with fluffy clouds tinged orange, pink and purple. A very faint hiss from the propane is the only sound besides occasional soft wind gusts. The balloon floats calmly now, suspended mid-air and rotating slowly.

Sue Ellen dares to carefully look over the basket's edge. The cattle are just little black and brown dots on the field from up here. JR's boots scrape the basket floor as he walks over to her. He puts his hand gently on the small of her back.

"Look there, Sue Ellen," JR says pointing down to the pasture far below. "You see that truck? That's Sam and his crew. That's our chase car, keeping an eye on things. Nothing to worry about."

Sue Ellen smiles. A flock of geese pass quite a ways below them, their wings moving in unison. Sue Ellen looks back to the sunset and takes a long, deep breath.

"It's beautiful, really, I….I had no idea," she says.

"I knew you'd love it…as much as I do…," he trails off.

They stay quiet, watching the sun turn from pink to pale orange. After a short while, JR gives the burners a quick blast. The balloon floats higher at a slight sideways glide. JR looks over at Sue Ellen. Her eyes are closed, a faint smile on her lips. She leans against the basket, both arms propped on the railing, her wrap fluttering gently in the breeze. JR wants to pilot this balloon back to the past, before his most grievous misdeeds, before the divorces, the sharp words that can't be unheard, before John Ross turned angry, before Sue Ellen got sick. He is suddenly moved to tears and turns away from her, hoping she won't yet open her eyes. He sees a group of horses galloping on the plain below and it calms him. He smiles at thoughts of Jock riding fast and wild across the fields.

Sue Ellen comes up behind him and stands close. He puts his arms around her shoulders. "What are you thinking about?" she asks.

JR smiles tightly, looking off at the sunset. "How I can fly my balloon over Harris Ryland's house without tapping any power lines," he says and winks.

He squeezes Sue Ellen's waist. "How about you? What are you thinking about, darlin'?"

Sue Ellen closes her eyes again, inhales the crisp fresh air and says, "I think this is what it feels like when you leave the Earth….you just float, weightless on to heaven, your mind free and your heart light, just like the day you were born," she says.

JR looks down at his chest to see the knife that is surely sticking out of his heart. He feels physical pain at Sue Ellen's poignant words. He kisses her forehead.

"Sue Ellen, no one's floating up and away just yet," he says. "You're gonna be around for a long while, you're gonna be just fine, you'll see - "

She puts her finger against JR's lips and he stops speaking. She smiles and holds his face, "Let's just be here in this moment, you and me and the beautiful sky and nothing else," she says. JR puts his hands over hers, his eyes lock hers like lasers and his pulse pounds in his ears.

"CREW TO EWING 1!" screeches out of the radio on JR's belt, startling Sue Ellen.

"Goddammit!" JR shouts.

Sue Ellen rolls her eyes and smiles.

"CREW TO EWING 1, COME IN?" the radio barks again. JR fumbles with the belt clip and then just yanks it off, busting the plastic clip holder.

"Ewing 1 to crew, what do you want?" he says.

"Hey JR! How's it going up there? A-Okay?" Sam says.

"Just fine, bye now," JR says.

"You're lookin' good, buddy! Hahaha! The big 'JR' in the sky! You know, like pie in the sky..…but JR? Hahaha!"

"Okay, yeah, that's real good. We'll be down in about 20," JR says.

"10-4, copy that! See you at the landing!"

JR wants to throw the radio overboard. He thinks better of it and slides in into his jacket pocket.

"Now, where were we, honey?" he says and pulls Sue Ellen close again.

She puts both arms around his waist and turns into him but doesn't look up at his face. It's been a long while since she cuddled with someone. It feels nice. "What do you think John Ross is doing right now?" she asks.

JR's shoulder's drop and he sighs in surrender. "Oh I don't know, stirring up some kind of trouble, I imagine," he says and laughs. Sue Ellen hugs him tighter.

"JR, what if I lost him tonight…with what I said? What if he doesn't come back to me?" He hears that all too familiar quiver in her voice.

"Now don't you worry, he'll come around. He's a good boy, just stubborn as hell. He loves you but like me, he's got a strange way of showing it, that's all," JR says.

Sue Ellen looks up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "You're a good man, JR, underneath it all," she says softly. "And don't you tell anyone I said so. I'll deny it."

"You're secret's safe with me, sugar. This here's our sky box confessional. What happens in the balloon, stays in the balloon," he says. _And I sure do hope something happens_, he tells himself.


	21. Chapter 21

"Where'd you two run off to?" Lucy asks as JR and Sue Ellen walk into Southfork's foyer.

"We, uh, we went for a ride," Sue Ellen says.

"Riding?" Lucy says. "I haven't seen either of you on horseback for a hundred years."

"Oh. A hundred years, huh?" Sue Ellen says. "You sure know how to make a girl feel young again, Lucy."

Lucy giggles and walks to the den with her second piece of homemade Dutch apple pie. JR follows Lucy and winks at Sue Ellen, which Christopher notices.

"Which of my mares did you ride, Aunt Sue Ellen?" he asks with a sly smile.

Sue Ellen smiles and touches his cheek. "You don't miss a thing, do you honey?" she says. "Reminds me of someone."

"Oh? Who?" he says.

"Sue Ellen!" JR yells from the den. "Come on in here! Hurry up!"

Sue Ellen and Christopher rush to the den. The family is gathered around the television watching the evening newscast.

The blonde and bronzed news anchor flashes florescent white teeth as "Texas Governor Watch - 2013" scrolls on the screen beneath her.

"Dallas business mogul Sue Ellen Ewing advanced her gubernatorial bid for next year's Democratic nomination with a spirited rally in Fort Worth today," she says. "The large crowd was treated to Texas barbecue and some stirring words from the candidate that seemed to resonate with the voters. Let's take a look," the anchor says.

Tape rolls excerpts of Sue Ellen's speech. The camera pans the crowd, capturing many wearing their local union shirts. The Mexican man shouting "madrina!" precedes the final cut of Sue Ellen saying "We are Texas!".

"Mother Texas?" the anchor says to her co-anchor. "Catchy," he replies and they both laugh. "Well, you never know," the woman says. "Never underestimate the underdog." The anchors say goodnight and the broadcast goes to commercial.

"Underdog my ass!" JR shouts. "Ewings don't lose and you're about to school the whole damn state of Texas on that, Sue Ellen. Now what's that fool girl's name? She's about to be unemployed come tomorrow - "

"JR, calm down," Sue Ellen says, unable to hide her smile. "That doesn't bother me one bit. I am the underdog and there's no shame in that. All the more reason to celebrate this press," she says calmly.

JR sighs. "I suppose you're right," he says. "Well how about that! Our little Sue Ellen on the evening news!" JR says. Everyone claps but Ann who stands off to the side with arms crossed.

"That's fantastic, Sue Ellen," Bobby says. "Rally coverage on primetime network news! Congratulations."

He kisses Sue Ellen on the cheek. Ann's eyes narrow.

Christopher and Lucy give Sue Ellen hugs and Boone whistles so loud Carmen appears in the den's doorway.

"Yes? Did you need something?" Carmen asks.

"Good lord, no Carmen," Bobby says. "We'd never summon you with a whistle! Boone here's just a real enthusiastic down home guy, that's all. We're just celebrating some big TV press for Sue Ellen."

Carmen smiles nervously. "Oh, I see. Congratulations, Mrs. Ewing," she says. Ann winces at the words.

"Thank you so much, Carmen" Sue Ellen says and Carmen turns to go.

"Hold on there, honey!" JR calls out. "I think this calls for a celebratory toast. Help me pour, Carmen."

"No, no. That's alright, Carmen," Ann says. "I'll help you serve, JR."

JR raises his eyebrows. "Suit yourself," he says and smiles. He and Ann walk over to the bar in the corner of the room. They pour and mix drinks. Ann brings the full tray around to each guest and they take their desired drinks. She stops at Sue Ellen last and holds the tray out to her. The only glass left is the tonic water over ice with Sue Ellen's signature lime wedge on it.

"Thank you," Sue Ellen says and squeezes Ann's arm. "I'm just delighted with this coverage, Ann. It's been a day full of surprises!" Sue Ellen says and instantly regrets it, thinking about the developments at dinner.

"You know what I mean," she says as Ann walks away without a word. Sue Ellen tightens her mouth and looks around the room. Everyone holds their glasses up.

"To Sue Ellen," JR says, "and a successful campaign lead by a smart and beautiful woman," he says, tips his hat and raises his glass.

"Here, here! Cheers!" everyone says.

Sue Ellen smiles big and raises her glass to them as well. The light catches in her glass and she looks at the liquid. Strange….no bubbles fizzing about. She smells the drink. No odor but the zest of lime. She raises it to her lips and glances at Ann who is staring at her from the couch, gripping Bobby's hand tightly.

Sue Ellen pulls the glass back and swears Ann's shoulders drop.

"So great to see you on TV," Christopher says putting his arm around her.

"Thank you, Christopher. It's surreal, isn't it?" she says. "Honey, would you taste this please?" she says, handing him her glass.

He looks puzzled but takes a sip. His eyes widen and he swallows quickly.

"Whoa, this is not for you, Aunt Sue Ellen. This is straight vodka! Wow good catch," Christopher says. "Must've gotten mixed up on the tray. Hey who got Sue Ellen's soda water?" he yells out and laughs.

Sue Ellen looks at Ann in disbelief who smiles slowly. No one notices as they all chat amongst each other.

"We interrupt this broadcast for breaking news," the male voice booms on the television.

The same blonde anchor appears on the screen, trying to convey a look of concern despite a forehead paralyzed with Botox.

"Breaking news in a south Dallas neighborhood tonight. A Dallas police officer was found dead behind the wheel of his cruiser. Witnesses say the officer drove into an intersection against a red light near Lark Lane and 17th Street around 7 o'clock this evening. Other drivers are indicating the officer was already slumped over the steering wheel when his police car crossed into oncoming traffic and was struck by a utility van."

"Lark Lane? Isn't that your street, Sue Ellen?" Ann says. Sue Ellen nods.

Footage of the crash scene flashes on the screen. The police cruiser is crumpled and pushed halfway up the street curb, resting against a large Ficus tree. The Ewings gasp at the shocking pictures.

"The officer's next of kin have been notified. He is 36-year-old Steven Jensen, a nine-year veteran of the Dallas police force."

A photo of Jensen in uniform appears on the screen. Sue Ellen gasps loudly. Boone's head snaps around to her, back to the television screen and over to Sue Ellen again.

"You alright, Sue Ellen?" Ann says. The lightbulb goes off in Lucy's head now.

"What?," Sue Ellen says, startled, "Yes, I'm fine. I mean, just, that's a shame. One of Dallas' finest dead so young. Isn't it?" she says and smiles nervously.

"Do you know him, Boone?" Lucy asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know Jensen. Different squad, but I know who the guy is. Was," Boone says.

"Well was he unhealthy or something? Maybe he had a heart attack. I swear I worry about what this job does to your health, baby," Lucy says, with one eye still on Sue Ellen, trying to distract from her reaction.

"Seemed fine to me," Boone says. "Kind of a quiet dude, kept to himself. He just got a nice new ride, too. A brand new shiny black Corvette. Don't see a lot of officers driving 'Vettes around. Some of the guys took issue with that. Thought he was kinda boastful. And now look at him. Smashed like a snail on the sidewalk. You just never know," Boone says and downs his drink.

Sue Ellen slowly nods her head, her eyes darting around the room.

"Well, my squad's got an early call tomorrow," Boone says. "We best be off. Thank you kindly for a nice Sunday dinner, JR. You too, Bobby, Ann. Anyone else walking out?"

"Me. I am," Sue Ellen says.

"Oh come on, Sue Ellen. Relax a while longer. Don't y'all leave at once," Ann says.

"No, no I've got to go. I'm pretty tired. Long day," Sue Ellen says.

"You sure you're alright?" Ann says. "You do look a little pale. Are you feeling sick, honey?" she says and smirks.

"You know what I'm sick of?" JR says, standing up. "I'm sick of you trying to make Sue Ellen uncomfortable in my home."

Ann spins around to face JR. Sue Ellen turns to go but Christopher catches her arm.

"You got something to say to her, me, whomever, just come right out and say it!" JR says.

Ann walks right up to JR and smiles.

"Annie, JR, come on now. We've had a nice evening. Can't we just end it that way?" Bobby says.

"Oh shut it, Bobby," Ann says. "I've had just about enough of your placating and smoothing over and cheek turning when it comes to these two."

"These two?" Bobby says.

JR laughs.

"And you," Ann says to JR, "you're just a bully, JR. An old, wrung out bully trying to hold on to the past." JR's smile fades.

"Well life's moved on without you, JR. And I don't know what kind of fantasy game you're playing here but Sue Ellen's not your wife anymore. She's not a Ewing any more than Elena or Carmen is now, to use your words. She's not part of your life like she was 25 years ago and putting her in Miss Ellie's chair isn't going to turn back time no matter - "

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Sue Ellen says, stepping between Ann and JR. "And don't tell JR where I fit in his life. You don't understand us, Ann. No one does but JR and I. All the rest of you and anyone else needs to know is that as long as he invites me to dinner, I will be here every Sunday, whether you like it or not," she says.

Everyone is quiet. Sue Ellen puts on her wrap.

"Well sure is just like old times, isn't it Uncle JR!" Lucy says. Boone tips his hat to the family and pulls her away.

Boone and Lucy walk to the door and Sue Ellen follows, then turns around and walks back into the den.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, JR," she says and kisses him on the cheek. He closes his eyes and smiles.

As Boone, Lucy and Sue Ellen walk out to their cars, she looks over at Elena's cottage. _John Ross is going to blame me for that_. Surprisingly, the tears don't come.

When they reach the privacy of their cars, Boone slides into Sue Ellen's passenger seat as Lucy starts up the SUV.

"So that was him?" Boone says.

"Yes. I'm positive. I'll never forget that face and the way he smiled at me during the DUI test," Sue Ellen says.

Boone sighs and rubs his hand over his face. "Sue Ellen, why in hell did you blab on TV about having proof the stop was a set up?"

Sue Ellen looks shocked. "Well, because I do," she says.

"And?" Boone says.

Sue Ellen looks down. "And because it was a golden opportunity for some press."

"Yeah. Well good for you," Boone says. "I, however, didn't fare so well."

"What do you mean?" Sue Ellen says.

"I mean that I told you I'd handle this on the down low, remember? That I'd investigate the situation. I already gave the damn glove to the lab, Sue Ellen. It's gonna come back with Jensen's prints on it and now the son of a bitch is dead!" Boone shouts. "How's that look for me?"

Sue Ellen inhales, "I'm sorry, Boone, really. I didn't think you'd already given it to your contact, please believe me."

"Well you coulda asked. But somehow I doubt that woulda stopped you anyhow," he sighs. Sue Ellen doesn't argue the point.

"Is there anything I can do?" she says. "Would you like me to go down to the police department and tell them I recognized the officer's picture as the one who pulled me over?"

Boone sighs again. "No. Just sit tight until you hear from me. Let me see how things shake out first. And please, no more popping off to the TV people about your 'proof', alright?"

"Yes. I promise. And Boone? Thank you for helping me. I really do hope I haven't caused you any trouble. You're a good man and Lucy's lucky to have you."

Boone smiles, "I agree," he says and gets out of Sue Ellen's car. Lucy climbs over to the passenger seat as Boone takes the wheel. "Dammit, lil' lady, I am stressed the hell out right now," he says while turning their car around.

"Well gun it and get us home. I have just the remedy for you," she says and runs her fingers through his hair. They speed down the Southfork drive and away.

Sue Ellen sits quietly in the dark in her Porsche, looking at the back of Southfork silhouetted around light glowing from bedroom windows. She's unsettled by her feelings just now. She wants to drive away and yet she stays, gazing at JR's window. She looks upstairs to Miss Ellie and Jock's room where Bobby and Ann are surely arguing at this moment. The house is off kilter without Ellie, that's for certain. Sue Ellen feels a pang of sadness.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ellie," she says in the darkness of her car. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay. If only….well….anyway, I promise to look after your boy, as best I can."

* * *

Harris Ryland squints at the photo of the officer on the 10:00 news. Jensen? Dead? He sets his scotch down with a thud, spilling some onto the mahogany desk. He turns up the volume and throws the remote down on the couch.

"….rolled into an intersection near Lark Lane and 17th Street earlier tonight before being struck by oncoming traffic," the newscaster says. Lark Lane? Sue Ellen's street?

His eyes bulge and he jumps up from the couch, pacing in his study. He holds his head, trying to wrap his mind around what's happened. He hadn't figured Sue Ellen would get that dirty. He is both furious and aroused.

He calls his daughter.

"Hello?" Aubrey says.

"Sue Ellen's had my officer killed," Harris says matter-of-factly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You obviously haven't seen the news tonight," he says.

"Yes, I saw it," Aubrey rolls her eyes. "That policeman worked for you?"

Harris sighs impatiently. "He's the one who did the DUI stop. You knew that."

"Well I've never seen him before and I can't keep track of every name on your books. There are too many," she says.

Harris cocks his head at the annoyance in her voice. "You were the one who told me she said she was looking into the stop and would have answers soon, remember?"

"Yes, so?"

"So you should have followed up on that clue. Did you?"

"Followed up how? By asking Sue Ellen so many questions that she becomes suspicious?"

Harris pauses.

"Hello?" Aubrey says, that sinking feeling in her stomach telling her she's gone too far.

"You're losing your edge," Harris says.

"Well….maybe I'm not the right person for the job anymore," she says and holds her breath.

"Tell me baby girl, do you like your nice home and your pretty clothes? Your fast car? Your long vacations? What about the way Daddy made your police warrants disappear? Do you like those things?"

"Yes," Aubrey says flatly.

"Then you're still the right person for the job. And that's real good honey, because the stakes have just been raised," Harris says and hangs up.

* * *

While Bobby showers Ann creeps downstairs in the dark, unsure what she's sneaking around for but certain there's something to find. The house is quiet but for murmuring in the den. A flickering glow reflects on the wooden hallway floor. She stops mid-step and listens…a female voice. _How dare she still be here at this hour_. Ann tightens her robe, smooths her hair and walks right into the den. No one but the television talking, a replay of Sue Ellen's rally segment on the news.

"Naturally," Ann says and presses the power button with a hard flick of her finger. "I can't even get a break from you in my own house, Sue Ellen _Ewing_."

She flops down on the caramel Italian leather couch and runs her hands along the smooth and supple hide. She curves around the arm rest and her fingers come upon the row of cool, hard brass rivets. She clenches her jaw. _This is what you are now, Sue Ellen, a hard rivet in my otherwise comfortable life_. Her hand lingers on the rivets and she tries to dig one out. It doesn't budge.

Her nail cracks and she winces in pain. Sucking her bleeding cuticle, the green light on phone set on the end table catches her eye. Bingo. JR hasn't gotten his own phone line yet. For once Ann is delighted at his old school ways and how he hates getting a 'hot ear' from his cell. She removes the cordless handset from the cradle and slowly pushes the 'talk' button, covering the receiver to block the sound of her breathing.

"…..was the prior owner? Well I'll be damned," JR says.

A man laughs on the other end.

"How long was he on the title?" JR asks.

"One day, then he signed it over for a selling price of one dollar."

JR laughs. "Isn't that nice. Wouldn't you like to buy a brand new Corvette for a buck?"

"Sure as hell would, JR."

"Yeah. Well sorry Bum, that ain't gonna happen," JR says.

"Hey no complaints here. As far as I'm concerned, I'm well taken care of," Bum says.

"What do you want me to do tomorrow besides check on John Ross?"

"I want you to roll by the highways, outbound especially, and check for tankers or semis on the shoulder. I put Russell on a little job tomorrow. I'd like to see how it kicks off," JR says.

"Will do, JR."

"Night, Bum."

The phone clicks off.

"What are you doing down here in the dark?" Bobby asks in the den doorway, his hair wet and his bare chest glistening through the opening in his robe.

"Oh! What?" Ann says, replacing the handset in the cradle.

"Are you gonna call someone?" Bobby says.

"Who?" Ann says, smiling oddly.

"How should I know? You're holding the phone," he says. "Are you okay? You're acting weird."

"Oh. Well. Uh. Yes, yes…..I was going to call Sue Ellen and…..apologize for tonight," Ann says with big doe eyes.

"Oh honey," Bobby smiles, sits down and puts his arm around her. She sinks into him and he kisses her head. "What happened tonight? I've never seen you act like that. A harsh tongue is par for the course from JR, but not you Annie. You're the kindest person I know. What's going on?"

Ann sighs and looks up at him with watery eyes. "Oh Bobby, I'm sorry. I am. It's just…Sue Ellen's so gorgeous and…..elegant and I'm, well….not."

"Hey, wait a minute," Bobby says, taking her face in his hands. She closes her eyes as tears roll down her cheeks. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again," he says. "Look at me. Look at me, honey." Ann opens her eyes and Bobby wipes the tears away.

"I am looking at the most beautiful face in my world. I wish you saw what I see," he says.

Ann kisses him deeply. "I love you," she says. "Sue Ellen just makes me feel insecure. She doesn't think I belong here, I can feel it. And honestly, she's making me lose my confidence."

"You're my wife, Ann Ewing, and you belong right here at Southfork with me more than anyone, certainly more than Sue Ellen," Bobby says.

Ann kisses him again. "What about JR?" she says, searching his face.

Bobby wrinkles his forehead. "How do you mean? Are you asking me who I love more, you or my brother?"

"No, of course not. I'm just saying, well, it's awkward living here with other people in our home. Grown people who….who should be on their own, you know, in their own homes by now, like everyone else," she says tentatively.

"Grown people? Who else do you mean? …..Christopher?"

Ann remains quiet.

"You want JR _and_ Christopher off Southfork?" he says.

"Bobby, you've lived this way all your life. You don't see how strange it is. Please, trust me, I'm trying to do what's best for us, for our marriage. Sharing our home with your crotchity old brother, your grown son and now Sue Ellen the local celebrity is not enjoyable. It's unhealthy. Who's next? Lucy and Boone? John Ross the train wreck, god forbid?" she says.

Bobby sits silent next to her. He removes his arm from around her shoulders. "Annie, I didn't know you felt this strongly about it."

"I do. And it's only getting worse."

"Well that's a shame, because I'm not throwing my brother or my son out of my house," he says. They're my family, Annie, _our_ family. And you don't do that to your kin. At least Ewings don't."

Ann's expression turns icy. "So. You're choosing them over your wife?"

"No! I'm choosing kindness and family over jealousy and insecurity. That's what I'm doing. I hope you'll try to make the best of it, Ann. I think if you stop looking for fights, it'll be much easier on you. There's a lot of family history written at Southfork before you arrived - "

"Really? You don't think I know that? You don't hear JR reminding me of that damn near every day?" Ann shouts.

"Honey, calm down, please," Bobby says. "I was going to say there's a lot of family history that JR and Christopher were part of and building relationships with them will make you a part of it, too. I want you to be a part of this whole family, Annie, not just me."

Ann sighs, "Well, I'd like that too. I suppose I just want to feel included. And JR doesn't make that easy," she says.

Bobby grabs her hand, "Can't argue with you there," he says with a smile. "You know, all of Mama's photo albums are still upstairs. I'll set them out for you and you can go through them, have a look at all of us back in the day. Might be a good way to break the ice with JR, and deepen your bond with Christopher, too."

"Great," she says. Bobby is unconvinced.

"Annie, we're husband and wife, and you're the most important person in my life. Don't think for a minute we're not going to make our own history as a couple in this family," he says with pleading eyes.

_Damn straight_. "I know, sweetheart," she says lovingly and kisses him again.

They walk down the hall holding hands and through the living room on the way to the front door so Bobby can do his habitual check of the locks.

"Silly, isn't it?" he says. "No matter how many times I've already checked, gotta check once more before bed."

Ann smiles absently. She is staring at all the family photos on the grand piano.

"You coming up?" Bobby says.

"You go on ahead," she says. "I want to get the coffee pot ready for the early bird," she says and winks.

"Thank you, honey. JR will appreciate that!" Bobby says and climbs the stairs with a spring in his step.

When she hears his footsteps overhead, Ann walks to the white grand piano and looks at all the framed photos on it. Then she removes five pictures of JR, Sue Ellen and John Ross at various life stages. She rearranges the rest of the frames to fill the holes and throws the five pictures in the kitchen trash can, scrunching some old newspapers on top of them.


	22. Chapter 22

_This chapter is the end of "The Potter's Ground" segment. I thank everyone for reading and deep bows of appreciation to my reviewers! The next story segment, "The Archer and the Arrow" will post soon and concerns manipulation, engaging in it and refraining from it._

* * *

Happy to be home from Sunday dinner, Sue Ellen walks in her front door. Crockett's big paws slide down her red silk dress after licking her cheek with kisses. Bowie circles around her feet, nudging her boots repeatedly.

"Hello boys!" she says. "Did you miss me? Of course you did," she tells them with vigorous pats on their heads. The dogs scamper around her and Bowie chuffs, his big amber eyes trained on the front door.

"What's the matter, Bowie? Come here, boy. Why so anxious?" She kneels down and Bowie barks right in her face.

"Bowie! Settle down, now. What is it? You can't be that hungry. I left your kibble out. Stir crazy?" she says, running her hand along his back. His spine is rigid. "I'm sorry I had to keep you inside but it's too hot out in the yard." Bowie whimpers and takes off toward the back of the house.

Sue Ellen shrugs her shoulders. "Are you mad at me, too, just like Ann?" she calls after him. "That woman's got her riding boots so far up Bobby's ass, it's a wonder he can still walk," she says to Crockett who cocks his head and twitches his pointy ears back and forth.

"Beautiful boy," she says to her dog, caressing his muzzle. "Looks can be deceiving, can't they? If Ann pushes me much further, she'll bring out the doberman in me, won't she Crocky?" He barks in agreement.

Sue Ellen giggles and picks up a piece of paper dropped through the mail slot.

"Maxine's Dog Walking Service - We Love Them All, Big and Small. Long walks and play for your dogs while you're away. Fair rates, call today!"

"A rhyme, clever," she says with an eye roll and tosses the flyer into the trash can. Walking through the kitchen and into the atrium, she exhales at the sight of the serene glass room. _What's that awful smell?_

"Oh no!" she shouts at the big pile of dog poop on her favorite relaxing spot; the yellow chaise lounge will never be the same.

"Well I don't even have to ask which one of you left that for me," she says. Bowie wags his little tail nub.

"Naughty Bowie," she says to him, trying to look stern. He gives her his best puppy eyes and pants. She swears his lips are curled into a smile and she can't help but laugh. Suddenly Bowie paws at the sliding glass door.

"Goodness, more?" she says and quickly unlocks it. Bowie bounds outside as soon as she slides the glass door open. Crockett quickly follows and the two frolic happily on the lawn in the moonlight.

"Can't say I blame you," Sue Ellen says watching them play. "If I'd have had to stay closed up at Southfork tonight, who knows what I would have done. I guess there's no avoiding getting that ugly huge doggie door installed…or…."

Sue Ellen leaves the dogs to their playing and walks back to the kitchen. She removes the wrinkled dog walker flyer from the trash, smooths it out and tacks it to the big stainless steel refrigerator with a magnet in the shape of Texas.

She contemplates leaving the dog shit for the housekeeper to clean up in the morning, or just dragging the chaise out to the trash all together. The notification light blinking on her cell on the counter is a welcome distraction. She opens her messages, disappointed John Ross' name does not appear, just a text from Mark and another motion detection alert from her surveillance software. _Just the dogs, as usual._

"Huge donation tonight from a Mr. Jackson Arrow. Know him? If not, Google and brush up on Wichita indians. $100K via web," Mark's text reads.

"Don't know him. Intrigued," Sue Ellen texts. "Thanks again for your hard work w/rally. Media coverage was thrilling." She presses 'send'.

":)" Mark texts back.

"Movement activation: camera 2, camera 4, camera 5, camera 9, camera 10" the next message from the video camera software reads, along with date and time stamps.

Cameras 9 and 10? Exterior cameras? Sue Ellen heads to her computer, curious to see what activated the backyard cameras when the dogs were inside. She sits down at her desk at opens the software, clicking on '#9 - rear gate'. In the 'start' field, she enters a few seconds before the alert's time stamp and sits back to watch.

Sue Ellen's eyes grow wide and she leans toward the large computer monitor. Officer Jensen is climbing over her rear iron gate in uniform. _He was here?_ She pauses the tape and looks around her office. Nothing seems out of place. Eyes still wide, she resumes play and watches Jensen jump the gate, cautiously walk around the pool, call something out toward the dog houses, and walk out of range.

She plays camera 10, the next alert in the timeline. Jensen is on the other side of the yard now, looking up. He smiles, empties her crate of compost, flips it over and begins removing the bathroom window screen. Sue Ellen gasps.

She clicks back to camera 9, following the alert sequence. _What?_ There's Ruby, coming in the pass through gate holding two drinks. Sue Ellen's heart beat quickens and her skin chills with goosebumps. She watches Ruby yell something, smiling like a sweet little old lady and then walk out of view.

Sue Ellen tries to play camera 10 so fast she clicks outside the software onto her desktop and closes the application. "Dammit!" she shouts. Bowie comes running from the backyard and pushes his nose into her leg. "Not now, baby, not now," she says and gently pushes him away. He sits quietly at her side. She opens the software again and begins where she left off. Camera 10 shows Ruby talking to Jensen on the other side of the house, offering him one of the drinks, and the two walking out of range together. _My god, did he hurt her?_

Sue Ellen stands up, looks out the window at Ruby's house, sits back down and looks at Bowie, "Of all days to keep you boys inside," she says.

Afraid to see what happened next on the other side of the yard, she clicks camera 9 with one hand over her eyes and watches through her fingers. A few more seconds of smiley chatting before they walk back to the gate together.

"Ruby! What are you doing with him? He's bad news," Sue Ellen says. Bowie softly whimpers.

On the screen, Ruby unlocks Sue Ellen's gate and walks out with Jensen. They walk towards Ruby's house together and out of sight.

Sue Ellen leans back in her white leather chair, unsure what to do next. She picks up her cell, then puts it back down. Should she call the police? And tell them what? An officer came looking for a glove he dropped at a fake DUI stop, talked to her neighbor and then died down the street? Should she call Boone? She tries to remember what time she saw the coverage of Jensen's crash.

A light goes on in Ruby's dining room. Thank god. Sue Ellen locks up and walks over. She rings Ruby's bell, unsure what to expect or say.

"Good evenin' Mrs. Ewing," Paul says with a wide grin.

"Paul? Um, hello. Is, is Miss Ruby here?"

"Yes but she's resting upstairs. You….okay, Mrs. Ewing? You look like you seen a ghost."

Sue Ellen smiles a little too big and Paul looks puzzled. "But she's alright?" Sue Ellen asks.

"Yes. She fine. We, well, we had us a busy day," he says. This time he over-smiles.

"I know what you mean," Sue Ellen says. "Well, can you ask her to call me when she wakes? No matter the time. I need to ask her something."

"Of course," he says.

"Thank you. Good night, then," she says.

Paul smiles, nods and starts to close the door.

Sue Ellen turns around. "Paul? Do you know anything about - "

"No!"

"But you don't know what I was going to say," Sue Ellen says.

"I generally don't know nothin' about anything," Paul says with a feeble laugh and quickly closes the door.

* * *

"Wake up, boy!" Ruby shouts and Paul nearly jumps out of his skin, sitting straight up on the couch. He looks a fright, eyes bulging and disoriented.

"I pay you too much to fall asleep when there's work to be done," she says, hands on hips. "The night's still young."

"Uhhh," Paul says.

Ruby breaks into a hearty laugh that echoes through the quiet house. She pats Paul on the head, "Relax. I'm just playin' with you," she says. "Hoooo! We sure had us a day today, didn't we?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Hmm hmm!" Ruby says and hands Paul a cold, tall lemonade. "Here, drink up and set your head on straight. It's the right time for me to see what you seen at Sue Ellen's rally today. I'm rested and the moon's full as she is bright."

Paul's shoulders slump. He thought this situation had ended with the untimely departure of Officer Jensen this evening.

"Oh now don't be scairt," Ruby says.

"I ain't scared," Paul say between gulps of lemonade. "I just like to know what's goin' down before I'm underneath it, that's all." He sighs and puts the empty glass down. The ice cubes clink, then begin slowly spinning around each other. Paul's eyes grow wide once more.

"Come on! My energy's gettin' out. Come on now!" Ruby yells. She nearly skips to the kitchen like a young girl and Paul rushes to keep up with her.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"Can't have no walls between me and the universe when she's talking to me," Ruby says as she she bursts out of the kitchen door and into the backyard.

She stands barefoot on the dewy grass, her light blue silk robe flapping in the warm wind like a cape. She removes her solid gold hair comb and her long hair blows freely in sweeping, curling silver strands. Paul is taken aback by the beauty of her in the moonlight. She looks half her years.

"Come on now, boy. Over here by me," she says, holding out both hands, steady and strong.

Paul goes to her without hesitation.

"Take them sandals off," she says calmly. He kicks them onto the lawn and takes her hands, arms outstretched in front of himself.

Paul's pulse grows louder in his ears while other sounds fade away.

"Lord make this boy a vessel," Ruby says softly. "Show me what I need to see."

She looks straight into Paul's eyes and he stops blinking. Her eyes are blue as Jamaican waters and Paul feels like he might weep. Ruby squeezes his hands gently. He swears he can smell the beef barbecuing on Sue Ellen's rally chuck wagon again. He hears the crowd and feels the hot sun burning his head.

"That's right," Ruby whispers. "Go on back to where you were. I'm right here with you. Right here," she says.

Ruby sees the bleachers now, the campaign signs and the crowd taking their seats. Her view is like looking through a telescope, the middle slightly distorted and the sides out of focus. She feels something bump her shoulder and her hair stands on end.

Paul's mouth is very dry and he licks his lips. His breathing quickens. "Almost there, Paul," he hears faintly.

Harris Ryland looks straight up at Ruby and smiles tightly. "This seat is taken," he says with a forked tongue. Ruby nods, taking a good long look at him. _I see you, serpent,_ she thinks and lets go of Paul's hands.

"Ahh!" he says and his knees wobble. Ruby helps him to the ground. The two of them sit on the grass. Crickets punctuate the hypnotic sound of tree leaves blowing in the evening breeze.

After a moment Paul says, "Did it work?"

"'Course it did, honey. I see who I'm up against now. Levels the field some. He's an ugly bastard, he is."

"Who….who is he?" Paul asks.

"That's on a need to know basis," she says. Paul looks down.

"Look here, you done your job real fine," Ruby says. "The rest is for me to worry about. Now help me up from this damn wet grass," she says and holds her hands up.

Paul rises and pulls her up. She tightens her robe and picks her gold hair clip off the lawn. She pats Paul on the shoulder and points him towards his quarters, the back house.

"You go on to bed, Paul. And you take the day tomorrow and do what you please. I'm gonna dress and go see Sue Ellen for a bit right now."

"Oh, she came by when you were napping and wanted you to call," Paul says.

"Yeah I know."

Paul looks puzzled.

"Go on, get to relaxing," she says and pushes him along.

As he climbs the steps of the back house porch, Ruby calls out, "Goodnight, Kazzius, God bless."

He turns around but she is already gone.

* * *

Sue Ellen's doorbell rings three times in rapid succession. The clock chimes 11 as she looks out the peep hole.

"Miss Ruby? Are you alright? What are you doing out at this late hour?" Sue Ellen says as Ruby walks past her and into the house.

"I ain't Cinderella, Sue Ellen. You think I'm gonna turn into a pumpkin or somethin'?"

Sue Ellen laughs. "No, no I don't take you for Cinderella at all," she says. "You're more like the fairy godmother, aren't you?"

Ruby dismisses her with a wave of the hand. "What are you drinking?" she asks, looking at the clear liquid in Sue Ellen's glass.

"Tonic water," she says. Ruby snatches it out of her hand and takes a sip.

"Pardon me!" Sue Ellen says. "You don't believe me? Please. I'm nearly 21 years sober," she says proudly.

"Yeah well good for you. And you're just one dee-saster away from resetting that clock," Ruby says.

"Excuse me?"

"You had some serious stress tonight. Don't tell me you didn't think about finding some relief," Ruby says while walking to the kitchen. She opens several cupboards.

"Relief? From alcohol? Not even close. Tonic water and coffee all night," Sue Ellen says.

"Well there was liquor close to your lips. And that's a fact." Ruby says.

Sue Ellen looks at her in disbelief. "How would you…..how could you possibly…Someone almost gave me a drink, by mistake," Sue Ellen says. "At Southfork. I had dinner there tonight. And I went on my first balloon ride. It was magical….."

Ruby stares at her. "Ain't you gonna offer me a cold drink? It's hot as hell in here."

"What would you like?" Sue Ellen says.

"Gimme a whiskey on the rocks, if you please."

Sue Ellen shakes her head. "Dry house, Ruby. If you want whiskey, you're gonna have to go home and drink your own. But not before I ask you what you were doing in my backyard with that police officer tonight…..the one who crashed around the corner. I saw it on the news."

"Fair enough," Ruby says and takes a seat at the table. "Sit with me, honey."

Sue Ellen puts a dish of mixed nuts and some iced tea in front of Ruby.

"Oh hell no. You want me to bust a tooth on them nuts?" she says and takes a long sip of cold tea. "Ain't you got some sponge cake or ice cream, or something?"

Mildly annoyed, Sue Ellen nods and removes a small pint of limoncello sorbet from the freezer. She stabs a spoon into in and gives it to Ruby.

"Obliged," Ruby says, biting her tongue about the highfalutin flavor. She takes a spoonful and swirls it around in her mouth, smacking at the tartness.

"Miss Ruby!" Sue Ellen says. "Stop dragging it out! That policeman died right down the street tonight and he was in my backyard minutes before….with you."

Ruby waits a few beats. "Correct," she says.

"Well?…What happened? What was he doing here? Did he try to harm you?" Sue Ellen asks, exasperated.

"Hardly," Ruby says and takes another heaping spoonful of sorbet.

Sue Ellen sighs.

"Let me ask you a question," Ruby says. "Why's your heart about to pound right out of your chest, gal?"

Sue Ellen's mouth drops open. "What - "

Ruby holds up one finger and wags it back and forth.

Sue Ellen sighs again. "Because that was the officer who pulled me over."

"That's right," Ruby says.

"Well if you know all the answers, why are you asking me?" Sue Ellen says.

"For you. You got to sort this out in your head. It's all jumbled up in there like scrambled eggs right now. So. Let's get to sortin'," Ruby says. "What was he doin' here?"

"Looking for the glove," Sue Ellen says.

"And what would he have done had he not found it?" Ruby says.

"Threatened me."

Ruby smiles warmly. "And how did you feel when he came at you on that empty lake road, pulling you over with a ruse?"

"Angry….afraid…humiliated."

"How do you think he felt?" Ruby asks.

Sue Ellen pauses and blinks, her chin slightly shaking. "He enjoyed it."

"Yes. Yes he did, honey. I tested him again today, just to be sure, and he failed terribly. So that's why he is no more," Ruby says and sweeps her hand across the dining room table like she's wiping dust away.

Sue Ellen leans forward. "I'm sorry, what? What did you say? That's why….he… is no more?"

"Stay with me now," Ruby says. "The pale horse come up your drive tonight. And he who sat on him, was death. He's been taken to the potter's ground and I've no sorrow for it because he who is filthy, remains filthy still."

Sue Ellen shakes her head. "Please. No scripture riddles, Miss Ruby."

"Riddles! That is the word of the Lord, Sue Ellen. Show some respect."

"Well, what…..where is the potter's ground? The man is dead, Ruby. What are you telling me? You know something about this? Was this…murder?"

Ruby pats Sue Ellen's hand. "Honey, you need only know one thing. Was God's work done here tonight," she says. "The serpent has many snakes and they will come again lest severed. Until the great dragon is seized, tread on serpents and scorpions, over the power of the enemy. And nothing shall hurt us. Luke 10:19."

Sue Ellen stares at Ruby, speechless. "You….what you're saying is….did you do something to him, Ruby?" she asks, not believing the words coming out of her mouth.

"Oh don't you go gettin' the vapors. You know damn well the answer to that question," Ruby says. "And you know what? You're glad about it."

Sue Ellen hopes her face does not reveal that Ruby may be right.

* * *

The nuts are gone already? Sue Ellen looks down at the empty dish she's been nibbling from for the past hour, only salt remains on the bottom. She pushes it aside, her eyes tired of watching surveillance videos. Whatever Ruby did to Jensen, it's not captured on her tapes. This brings some relief. She's not hiding evidence, or is she?

Still, how did she do it? Did she really do it? Did she have Paul do it? Sue Ellen plays the tape segments again, this time focusing on things instead of faces. She stares at the gun in Jensen's holster for the entire loop the first run through. The second time, the handcuffs on the back of his work belt. Third time, the drinks in Ruby's hands. _What's that?_

She pauses the tape, unsure if she sees something or her eyes are failing with fatigue. She rubs them and blinks away the blur. No. There is something different. She enlarges the drink in Ruby's left hand. There is a small cross drawn on the plastic cup in black ink. She touches it on her screen, her red nail covering the symbol.

"Ah, I see what you did there, Ruby," she says and leans back in her chair. She's unsure how to process this information. A man was_ killed. _A_ policeman_….who abused his authority, enjoyed humiliating her and tried to break into her home. What other nefarious things has he done, working for Harris or otherwise? She goes online and looks at the humiliating DUI photos of herself again.

But did he have a family? She slowly swivels her desk chair back and forth. Ten minutes pass before she surrenders to the fact that she doesn't care about that. She deletes the video footage and admits to herself that what she really wants to know is what Harris Ryland thinks of his henchman dying on Sue Ellen Ewing's street.


	23. The Archer and the Arrow Chapter 23

Mark meets Sue Ellen right inside the office door looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Good morning!" he shouts.

"Well aren't you enthusiastic for a Monday," Sue Ellen says with a smile.

Mark hands her a mug of steaming coffee.

"Oh, thank you," she says, sliding her handbag under her arm and taking the mug.

Mark looks at her eagerly. She takes a sip to please him, wondering why he's so overly attentive today.

"Well?" he says, "do you like it?"

"Uh, sure, yes, it's very good coffee," Sue Ellen says.

"No! No not the coffee! The mug," Mark says.

Sue Ellen turns the cup around. "We Are Texas" _Sue Ellen Ewing 2013_ it says in red, white and blue font inside a black outline of Texas. A gold star is the '0' in 2013.

Sue Ellen smiles. "It's great, Mark. I love it. How did you get this designed in just one day?"

"Oh just working my magic," he says, beaming. "There's more, take a big gulp and you'll see."

Sue Ellen blows the hot coffee and takes as big a sip as she can manage. A little below the rim, "Mother Texas sees you" is written inside the mug in cursive. She laughs. "That's cute," she says.

"I think we need to run with this and adopt 'we are Texas' as your official slogan. It got good press yesterday and it's growing legs so let's help it along. And the whole 'I see you invisible people' thing is a great subtext, too," Mark says.

"Subtext?" Sue Ellen says. "No. That's how I really feel, Mark. That's no script for some fictional character. It's my true concern for the underrepresented," she says, without a trace of sarcasm.

Mark's shoulders drop. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were being insincere. I just thought, well, I don't know what I thought…..You're just a very different kind of politician, is what it comes down to."

"That's right! And don't you forget it," Sue Ellen says, winking, and turns to walk to her office.

"Sue Ellen, wait," Mark says, "there's one more thing."

Sue Ellen raises the coffee mug and looks on the bottom of the cup.

"No," Mark laughs, "nothing more with the mug. This is way better. I saved the best for last."

"Oh?" Sue Ellen says.

"We got an email from the First Lady - "

"Of the United States?" Sue Ellen asks, shocked.

"The very one," Mark says. "She saw your rally coverage on the news and she's impressed with your message of honesty and support of mental health, in particular. She wants to call and speak with you."

Sue Ellen's mouth falls open. "You better not be pulling my leg."

Mark holds his hands up in surrender. "Not a chance. I speak the truth. I'm vetting the email right now for legitimacy. Seems you struck a chord with her. I'm researching what kind of involvement she may have had with mental health before the presidency, or perhaps alcoholism."

"This is amazing," Sue Ellen says, grinning big. "Order 500 of those Mother Texas mugs, Mark. I'm keeping this one for myself."

* * *

The Monday sun is newly hung in the sky. Ann chooses the busiest highway to start with, using the clue she eavesdropped from JR's conversation with Bum but unsure what she's looking for. She starts her black LandRover and takes a sip of coffee from her stainless steel thermos. The coffee coats the sparks of anticipation flaring in her stomach. She looks at JR's bedroom window before driving off. No sign of life.

Twenty miles away from Southfork on Highway 30, Ann sighs with frustration. She glances left and right, seeing nothing of note on the westbound side either. She drives another uneventful 20 miles before exiting and heading back on the other side of the 30. Frank Sinatra sings "Under My Skin" on the radio.

Ann smirks. "How appropriate," she says. "That's fine, JR. I've got a full tank of gas and a lot of patience."

She takes the Braddock exit and loops back around onto the eastbound 30.

"I can do this all day," she says and switches the radio station.

When she looks back up she recognizes that familiar logo on a tanker up ahead. She speeds up and maneuvers right behind the Ryland Transportation tanker. She sees her own car's reflection in the tanker's steel container and laughs wildly. About two miles later a highway patrol car's blue and red lights flash in her rear view mirror.

"You son of a bitch, JR," she hisses, not wanting to lose the truck but pulling over for the cop. As she crosses into the next lane the officer does not follow, instead it closes in on the Ryland truck and pulses its siren. Ann watches, a sly smile growing on her lips. She drives casually in her lane and tries to position her car to get a look at the officer pulling the truck over. He's not highway patrol. The decal on his door says 'Dallas Police Commercial Enforcement".

As the truck pulls to the shoulder with the officer close behind, Ann says, "Oh you naughty boy, JR. You're reaching into Harris' pockets. He's going to be very angry about this. He won't know what hit him with these big fines, until I tell him."

Ann watches the tanker and officer on the highway shoulder get smaller and smaller in her rear view mirror. She feels exhilerated.

"Time to celebrate and spend some money," she says, exiting the highway and pulling into the valet lane at the Highland Park Village shopping center.

She tips the valet $50 and practically skips to Hermes. The sales associate greets her at the door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ewing, how are you today?" she says.

"Very well, Sasha, very well indeed," Ann says.

"Wonderful. We have several preview pieces of our summer collection I'd be happy to show you," Sasha says.

Ann smiles sweetly. "Yes. I'd like that," she says, making herself comfortable in the light pink leather wingback chair.

"Of course," Sasha says, snapping her fingers at the runners to bring champaign. "Oh, and I saw your sister-in-law on the news last night! Congratulations, what an exciting development for your family."

* * *

Mark sits down with Sue Ellen in the conference room for the week's briefing. Sue Ellen has switched from coffee to bottled water and she slowly turns the bottle on the table with red lacquered nails. Her naked ring finger catches Mark's eye and he can't help but wonder why such a charming and lovely woman is alone.

When he looks up, Sue Ellen is softly smiling at him, catching him off guard. "Oh. So, um,' he stutters. "So, Mr. Arrow, let's start with him. Did you have a chance to read up on our big donor?" he asks.

"I did. Interesting. Why is a Wichita elder donating $100,000 to my campaign?" Sue Ellen says.

"That's the question of the day," Mark says. "I don't yet have an answer but I intend to before Friday. He's bought a ticket to your fundraiser dinner."

"Really?" Sue Ellen says. "So I'll get to meet him Friday night. That's much better than reading about him on Google. I'd rather just ask him in the flesh."

"Yeah, well, I don't know enough about this guy not to write him off as a nut who might just be infatuated with you," Mark says.

"Being infatuated with me makes him a nut?" Sue Ellen jokes.

Mark blushes. "Of course not. I'm just saying, I think we need to hire security beyond the facility's guards at this point."

"You mean like a body guard?" Sue Ellen says, amused.

"Yes. I'm serious. Just because he's got a lot of money doesn't make him safe," Mark says.

"You've no idea how profound that was," Sue Ellen says. "Whatever you think, Mark. I'm fine with it. In fact, what about your brother? Would he be interested?"

"Exactly who I had in mind. Let me ask Boone," Mark says.

"Great. Thanks, although I don't think there's any need for concern," Sue Ellen says.

"Oh, another thing, Mr. Ewing's bought a ticket to the dinner," Mark says.

"JR? Really?" Sue Ellen says, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. "Well. This is going to be interesting, isn't it? Boone might just earn his keep Friday night."

* * *

Harris clenches his jaw repeatedly while reviewing the day's ledger on his computer screen in his stark, white office at Ryland Transportation. Commercial enforcement fines totaling $91,000 is surely no coincidence.

"Whose pocket are you in, you son of a bitch?" he says while tracing the outline of the officer's signature on the scanned citation. That damn Jensen picked an inconvenient time to be killed.

"Get the Mayor on the phone," Harris says to the intercom on his glass and steel desk.

"Yes, sir," the new secretary replies.

Moments later the phone button glows solid red with the connection, then blinks again. The girl's voice thin with hesitation comes through his intercom, "Um, Mr. Ryland? May I say what it's regarding?"

"No. And if you don't get me put through this will be your first and last day here," Harris says into the speaker. Silence on the intercom.

After a minute, he flings his office door open. His new secretary is gone.

* * *

Maxine adjusts her headband and wipes her hands on her jeans before ringing Sue Ellen's shiny brass doorbell. She knew this was an upscale neighborhood but the grandeur of Sue Ellen's house takes her by surprise. Maxine hates herself for feeling nervous but she really needs this job.

Sue Ellen looks through the peep hole. A striking young woman stands on her porch brushing something off her turquoise cotton jersey in the soft early evening wind. Her dark hair bounces in tight ringlets of different lengths held away from her face with a bright orange scarf. Sue Ellen unknowingly smiles behind the closed door.

The imposing black front door opens. "Hello," Sue Ellen says rather shyly, "you must be Maxine."

"Oh no kidding!" Maxine says while nodding. "Sue Ellen, as in _Ewing_? You were on my TV last night."

"Well, did you watch or change the channel?" Sue Ellen says.

Maxine laughs. "I watched alright. I like your style. Not many straight-talking politicians out there, let alone lady candidates. Good luck with your campaign," she says with a bright smile. Her full and glossy lips reveal she is missing an upper tooth on the side of her mouth.

"On that note, please come in!" Sue Ellen says.

Maxine feels her shoulders relax. She's in the door and she's never been turned away after that. She clicks her tongue loudly against the roof of her mouth and claps her hands a couple times.

"Come on babies, lemme see you," Maxine says looking around for the dogs.

"Oh," Sue Ellen says, startled, I put them out back so you could meet them carefully."

"Carefully? Why? They aggressive?"

"No, not overly so. I don't know, I just thought it was safer. They don't know you, after all."

"Don't matter," Maxine says. "Dogs are the best judge of character. They can sense a liar, cheat or jerk from the other side of the room. And I ain't none of those things so I ain't worried at all. Take me to 'em, please."

Sue Ellen is amused but unsure exactly why. Maxine is a beautiful girl and Sue Ellen admires her features. Her caramel skin is flawless, her eyes deep hazel with copper flecks and they sparkle without a stitch of make-up. Big silver hoop earrings pierce her ears and Maxine pulls on one with unpolished fingernails, a brown leather cuff studded with silver rivets around her wrist.

"Okay, right this way," Sue Ellen says motioning to the atrium. Maxine passes the household's various points of opulence without a so much as a second glance but when she sees Bowie and Crockett peering into the sliding glass doors she gasps as if gazing upon solid gold statues.

"Oh! They're gorgeous. Look at you, pretty babies," she coos, walking past Sue Ellen and crouching at the doors.

Sue Ellen smells cedar, or something earthy, as Maxine passes by. Both dogs paw at the door and whimper. Bowie begins pacing, keeping his eye on Maxine.

"That's Bowie," Sue Ellen says. "He's the nervous one."

"No. You're the nervous one," Maxine says. "He just feels your apprehension, that's all. Dogs ain't nervous. People are."

Sue Ellen's eyes widen. "I'm not nervous," she says, not even convincing herself.

"Whatsa matter? You never had a black girl in your house before?" Maxine says.

"I beg your pardon?" Sue Ellen says.

The smile fades from Maxine's face. "I'm sorry. I tend to say what's on my mind. My Mama used to tell me that's gonna get me in trouble. And she was right. No offense, Sue Ellen."

Sue Ellen gives her a steely look, then says, "Well, so long as you let me search your pockets on the way out. No offense."

Maxine's mouth drops open. Then Sue Ellen laughs, "Kidding," she says. "Just a little awkward humor to lighten things up."

Maxine laughs loud and deep and Sue Ellen jumps. "Relax, Sue Ellen. I'm not gonna bite any more than your dogs are. Come on! Let's play with them," she says, opening the sliding door and walking into the backyard.

The dogs immediately sniff her light blue Converse tennis shoes and her legs through faded blue jeans. A small patch of the Cuban flag is ironed onto the seat of her pants. When Maxine bends down to greet the dogs, her top creeps up and exposes a tattoo of cursive writing on the small of her back. Sue Ellen can't make out what it says before Maxine rises and runs around the yard, the dogs playfully chasing her.

Maxine throws tennis balls for the dogs and they happily romp with her for the next 10 minutes. Then she throws a ball to Sue Ellen and it nails her in the chest, leaving a big grass stain on her lavender silk top.

"Oh shit!" Maxine yells, pats the dogs on the head and walks back to Sue Ellen.

"Sorry about that," Maxine says, Sue Ellen waves it away. "You don't play with them much, do you?" Maxine asks.

"Well I pet them a lot and make sure they get plenty of fresh air," Sue Ellen says.

"That's not the same as playing with them. You need to engage their minds, not just their bodies," Maxine says.

"That sounds like something a matchmaker might say to a man," Sue Ellen says.

They share a laugh.

"Believe me, I'm the last one to give relationship advice, for humans anyway," Maxine says.

"Oh? Well that sounds very mysterious. Are you single? Married?"

"Single. And happily so," Maxine says with a smile and then quickly, "Well I would surely love to walk your beautiful boys, Sue Ellen. Are you still interested or have me and my big mouth scared you off?"

"I don't scare so easily," Sue Ellen says. "You're hired."

"Excellent! Now, you realize two dogs mean two fees," Maxine says.

"I think I can manage," Sue Ellen says with a wink. "And I'll need you to be somewhat flexible, Maxine. With my campaign picking up speed, I may attend events at the last minute or stay away longer than expected. Will this work around your other clients?"

Maxine pauses. "Yes, yes I think I can make arrangements when necessary," she says, excluding the fact that she has no other clients yet.

"Great. Let's go inside and work out the details," Sue Ellen says.

The dogs follow them in. The ladies sit at the dining room table with cups of coffee. Crockett lays at Maxine's feet. A short while later Bowie suddenly trots to the front door. His docked ears point straight up and swivel at noises only he hears. Maxine notices his alert.

"You expecting someone?" she asks.

"No," Sue Ellen says just as the doorbell rings.

Sue Ellen makes a puzzled face and walks to the door.

"John Ross!" she says.

"Mama, we need to talk, right now," John Ross says, pushing past her.

"John Ross I have company."

Maxine turns in her chair, trying to see who owns the brash male voice booming in the foyer.

"I hired a dog walker," Sue Ellen says. John Ross snorts a noise that sounds like mockery to Maxine.

"I could care less," John Ross says. "I'm only here because I'm angry with you, Mama, for letting JR throw Elena out last night."

Sue Ellen rolls her eyes and walks back to the dining room. When she and John Ross appear, Maxine hears an almost imperceivable, low growl from Bowie. He stands facing John Ross, back slightly arched and chest barreled.

"Maxine, meet my son, John Ross Ewing."

Maxine does not get up or offer her hand. Instead she nods once and says, "Evenin'."

John Ross is quiet. He stares at Maxine, drinking her in. He swallows hard and smiles while looking at the floor. Maxine makes no effort at small talk.

"Well," Sue Ellen says to fill the air. "Would anyone like some more coffee? John Ross?"

"No, thank you, Sue Ellen" Maxine says and stands up. "I'll be going now."

John Ross jumps up from his chair. "Why? I just got here," he says, fully aware of how foolish that sounds.

"So?" Maxine says. "I came to meet your mother and her dogs, not you."

The words hit John Ross square in the face. Sue Ellen cocks her head, intrigued with what she's seeing. Maxine walks around the table side opposite of John Ross and his eyes follow her curvaceous body all the way to the front door. Sue Ellen walks behind her.

"Thank you for the job, Sue Ellen. I'll see Miss Ruby for entry on Wednesday morning, then. I'll give Bowie and Crockett a good time, you'll see," she says with a big smile.

"Oh, those dogs love a good time, and so do I!" John Ross says too loudly.

Maxine turns back around. "Have you ever walked your mother's dogs?" she asks him.

"What?" John Ross says.

"Bowie and Crockett. Have you ever walked them for your mama?"

John Ross wants to lie but looks at Sue Ellen. "Well, no. But I've wanted to," he says and smiles at Maxine.

"You've wanted to? What's stopped you then?" she asks.

"I'm very busy," John Ross says defensively.

Maxine laughs and walks out the door. As she strolls down Sue Ellen's drive, she softly sings a hymn in thanks for the new job. Ruby watches her from the window of her second story bedroom, quite happy she stuffed that flyer into Sue Ellen's mail slot.

"A change is comin', mmm hmmm," Ruby says.


	24. Chapter 24

_Thanks very much for the reviews! I just love reading your reactions._

* * *

John Ross looks out the window, watching Maxine walk down the drive, when Sue Ellen returns to the dining room.

"How's the view?" Sue Ellen says.

John Ross snaps around to face her, an embarrassed blush warming his face slightly pink.

"Where'd you find _her_? She's…..interesting," he says.

Sue Ellen raises her eyebrows.

"As a matter of fact, she_ is_ interesting," she says. "Doesn't pull any punches. It's refreshing to talk to someone like that. I like her."

"How do you know you can trust her? She could be some thief off the street just as much as the dog walker she claims to be," John Ross says. "Who does that for a living, anyway?"

"John Ross you need to get out more, out of your own very comfortable little world. A lot of people earn a living walking dogs and doing hundreds of other simple tasks that may seem silly to you, but they make a real difference in their own way and the ones I've met are very proud of that," Sue Ellen says turning to walk into the kitchen.

"Oh now Mama, get off the podium would you? There aren't any television cameras around to record your humble words right now," John Ross says with a smirk.

The words sting Sue Ellen and she closes her eyes against them, her back still turned. She shakes her head, turns around and says, "I'm worried for you, John Ross. If you don't let go of this bitterness soon, it's going to follow you around for the rest of your life. It's going to shut doors and turn people away that you might really need, and by the time you realize it they'll be long gone."

"Says the queen of mean," John Ross says. "Isn't that what Daddy once called you?"

"Your father called me a lot worse than that, and I responded in kind many times myself. And here it is 20-some years later and now what? We live separate lives even though we still love each other," Sue Ellen says, surprising herself and John Ross whose eyes are big as saucers. He looks away from her.

She quickly continues, "And now it's too late to do anything about it. Time has closed that door and marched on," she says, searching his face.

John Ross stares through the glass tabletop at his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"I'm only telling you this because it's not a good feeling to realize you've wasted time being….well..…angry. Regret is a big, loud demon, John Ross," Sue Ellen says, her eyes pleading with him to let his guard down.

She walks over to him, bends down, puts her arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. She feels him tense up.

"Yeah, okay Mama. Whatever you say," he says.

Sue Ellen sighs and releases her hug.

John Ross straightens up in his chair. "How could you sit at that dinner table last night and let JR kick Elena out of her cottage? You didn't protest one bit. Elena told me."

Sue Ellen looks to the heavens for strength. "I knew you were going to blame me for that - "

"And you're surprised?" John Ross says, his voice rising. "He's giving her home to you as a crash pad when you're jetting back and forth from Austin as the "governor"," he says using air quotes.

Sue Ellen takes a deep breath and wills the tears welling in her eyes to disappear. "Do not raise your voice to me," she manages to say calmly. "And stop calling your father by his first name. It's disrespectful."

John Ross rolls his eyes.

"I have no control over what JR does with that cottage or any other part of Southfork. If you have a problem with his decision, you talk to him about it. Stop trying to play us against each other like a scheming child," she says.

John Ross stands up too quickly and knocks the chair over. Sue Ellen flinches.

"Well thanks for nothing, Mama, as usual," he says and pushes past her to the front door.

Sue Ellen does not see him out. She picks up the chair, sits down in it, leans her elbows on the dining room table and massages her forehead, a headache already pounding behind it.

On his way out, the crumpled dog walker flyer with Maxine's phone number catches his eye on the foyer table. John Ross takes it and walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

* * *

Mark sits at his desk in the dark campaign office, his glowing computer monitor the only source of light. He started his research in the afternoon and now the clock on his screen reads 9:45 pm. He turns on his desk light and proofs his email to Sue Ellen again, this time finding a funny typo in the first sentence, _the fist lady's mother was an alcoholic._

"Fist lady!" Mark shouts. His laugh echoes in the empty office.

He changes 'fist' to 'first' and is about to send the email to Sue Ellen when his curser hovers over the button. He's suddenly self conscious about being at work so late and wonders if she'll notice the message's time stamp. _Why does this matter to me?_

Leaving the email unsent, Mark gets up and walks around the office, activating the motion sensor lighting. The office now blazes with bright florescent light. He walks around his coworkers' desks all bedecked with photos of children or other special someones and wonders what they're doing right now. Bedtime stories for the kids? Dinner dishes? Relaxing in front of the TV? Whatever the case, they're with their loved ones, ending another day together while he is here with his computer and his research, fears and insecurities his late night companions.

Is this all there is for him? Is this really to be his life, research briefs and campaign mugs his greatest achievements? He sits on the edge of Susanna's desk. A metal picture frame is displayed prominently next to her computer. "I'd rather be" is engraved on the top and magnetic tiles spell out "with my boyfriend" on the bottom. The frame contains a photo of a smiling, strapping latin man hugging Susanna at a park. At this moment, Mark wishes more than anything that he had one of these corny frames on his desk, showing the world who he loves.

He shifts his weight on the corner of Susanna's desk and something sharp pokes his thigh through his pocket. He reaches in and removes the gold pocket watch, fingering it gently and tracing his initials on its front. Knowing better but unable to stop himself, he turns the watch over. "I see your true colors" is inscribed on the back from his favorite song along with "Love you, Jason". Warm tears run down Mark's cheeks and he quickly puts the watch away.

"Oh hello!" a cheerful female voice says behind him. "I didn't know anyone was still here."

Mark, startled, hops off the desk and turns around to face the cleaning lady. He smiles through his tears hoping she does not notice them.

"Are you alright, sir?" the lady says softly.

"Yes! Yes…..I'm fine…really, fine. Thanks for asking," Mark stammers. The tears keep coming, dropping off his chin.

The janitor tilts her head and her face softens into an expression that knows sorrow. She takes a handful of Kleenex off her supply cart and gives them to Mark.

"Here," she says. "Whatever it is, it will pass. It may not seem like it right now, but in time it will."

"No, no I don't think so," Mark says. "…..I'm just missing someone who's not ever coming back," he says and wipes his eyes with the tissue.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the lady says and takes a step toward him. "That's very hard. Nothing hurts like losing someone special. I know how it feels. My husband passed away last year and sometimes the pain is so much that I think my heart might stop beating. And life goes on around you as if nothing's happened. And you want to scream at passersby, _I've lost my beloved! Why is the world still turning?_"

"Yes, exactly," Mark says, tossing the wadded up tissues in the trash can. "I'm sorry you lost your husband," he says.

"Thank you, he was a very good man," she says and smiles. "Here we are sharing our broken hearts and I don't even know your name, young man. What's your name?"

"I'm Mark."

"Pleased to meet you, Mark. My name is Florina, Florina Guzman. And…..may I ask…..who are your tears for? Who are you missing?"

Mark's heart begins pounding in his ears. Here it is. A defining moment is knocking on his door by way of the building's cleaning lady. He wants to ignore it and crawl safely back into his comfortable lie. His hand traces the outline of Jason's watch in his pocket. It feels like it's on fire.

"I'm missing….I lost…my boyfriend died. And I miss him."

* * *

"Well this is a surprise!" Harris says into his cell phone. "I don't believe you've called but two times since you moved into that big house on the hill, Annie."

"Yeah, well, I moved on. And up," she says.

"Oh, nice one. That really hurts me, Annie, truly, right through the heart."

Ann hears that breathy chuckle she hated so much. She can picture Harris' thin lips pulled into a tight smile.

"You don't have a heart, Harris. You have a battery pack where your heart should be, you insensitive machine."

"Ah that's very kind of you to say. Now you didn't just call to to give me compliments tonight, did you?"

"No, you insufferable man. I have something you want and I want you to do something for me in return."

"My, my Annie. So forward, demanding even. Bobby not satisfying you anymore? Well, can't really blame him. You've had a lot of….experience….shall we say."

"Stop it, Harris. This is not of a sexual nature. Sorry to disappoint you. I have information. Information I'm willing to trade."

"Oh?" Harris laughs. "Let me guess. Maternal instincts finally kicked in? You want to meet with Aubrey? A nice lunch on the terrace, perhaps?"

Ann snorts. "Please. Our daughter's nothing but trouble. She got that from you. And you can keep her as far as I'm concerned."

"Ooh such harsh words coming from a mother. You're a strange creature Ann. We really are meant to be together, you know."

"I know who's dipping into your pockets. And it's only just starting," Ann says.

"Is that right? Well that's no revelation, Ann. A lot of people try to chip away at my profits, including the government. It's a good thing I'm a clever and resourceful man, isn't it?"

"How many commercial enforcement citations did your drivers get today?" Ann asks. Harris is quiet. "What?" Ann says. "No sarcastic quip?"

"Alright. I'm listening. What do you want?" Harris says.

"I want JR Ewing out of Southfork," Ann says.

"Out of Southfork or out of your life?" Harris says.

"Both. But let's start with getting him out of my house. He's become a problem and now he's your problem too. He's behind your trucking violation fees. He's got contacts inside the Commercial Enforcement Police. And today was just the first day of his little project."

Harris inhales deeply. "He's playing you for a fool, Harris," Ann says, trying to nudge him over the cliff. "He thinks he can boss everyone and I'm tired of him taking over the household. He kicked Bobby and I out of our seats at the dinner table last night so he could play house with Sue Ellen - "

"And Bobby let him?"

"Bobby's a good man, Harris. He's too kind, that's his problem, something you wouldn't understand. Now back to the business at hand. I can get you proof JR's messing with Ryland Transportation but only if I see you're taking my request seriously. I've already given you the lead, now it's your turn to show me you're interested."

"Where's he gonna be for the next couple days?" Harris says.

"I don't know what he does during the day but he's going to Sue Ellen's fundraising dinner this Friday night at Tail Feather Farm."

"Tail Feather? How'd she manage to get them to host her event?"

"She's Sue Ellen Ewing, Harris," Ann says bitterly. "She can do anything and look ever so good doing it. Don't you know that?"

"You start working on getting that proof on JR," Harris says.

Ann smiles. "My pleasure. Oh and Harris? You could learn a thing or two from Bobby inside and outside of the bedroom. Just know that."

Harris laughs gleefully as if amused by a child. "Oh Annie, you were doing so well. Now you've gone too far. We both know that's not true," he says and hangs up the phone.


	25. Chapter 25

_Hi everyone just a note to say I just love reading your reactions to Ann. It's so interesting for me since she's taken a turn toward the dark side in my story. Love your feedback!_

* * *

Sue Ellen stops massaging her aching forehead, opens her eyes and sees her reflection on the glass table in her dining room. Tired eyes look up at her. She pushes herself up from the table and heads to bed without eating dinner. Why does she often feel so weary after talking to John Ross? She wonders what Oprah and her team of life coaches would think about her and her son.

"They'd throw their hands up and walk away, that's what they'd do," she says.

Her phone buzzes with an email from Mark. Grateful for the distraction, she stretches out on her bed and opens the message on her laptop. A lengthy brief of the First Lady's family history with alcoholism and depression appears. Sue Ellen reads the entire thing, fascinated and hoping to connect with her all the more. Her nightstand clock reads nearly 1 am by the time she's finished.

"Oh no. We've got to be up in four hours, boys," she says to the dogs curled up on their floor beds beside her.

For the next hour, she tosses restlessly in bed, wide awake. _Why did I tell John Ross I still love JR when I haven't even admitted it to myself? What if he tells him?_

"Well, that might not be so bad, actually," she says to the darkness and drifts to sleep moments later.

* * *

Boone sits in Tuesday morning briefing thinking about Lucy. The sergeant talks about suspects wanted for a liquor store robbery last night but Boone can't concentrate at all. His mind, and his body, keep reliving the wild love making he and his wife did before dawn. Who would ever think his lil' lady could pack such a punch, petite as she is? A big, inappropriate smile covers his face.

"Hey Ellis! What's that goofy look for?" his partner asks. "You drunk or somethin'?"

"Just reliving the dream," Boone says with a wink.

"Yeah? Well shake it off, you lucky bastard. We got some crooks to find. Gotta be clear-headed. Let's get a move on," he says as the officers clear out of the squad room.

"You go on ahead. I need to go upstairs and stop by the lab real quick," Boone says. "I'll meet you at the car."

"The lab? What for?"

"Why all the questions today, Hank? You a reporter on the side or just nosy?" Boone says.

"Well damn, excuse me, Mr. Mysterious. Go ahead and take care of your secret business then. See if I care," Hank says and punches him on the arm on his way out.

"Mornin' ladies," Boone says to the elevator full of secretaries. They all smile, some giggle and the ones in the front scoot back to make room for him.

"Come on in, honey," a brunette says. "We won't bite. We might nibble, though," she says while looking at Boone's wedding band. The ladies laugh.

Boone smiles and enters the elevator confidently. "You're all under arrest for exceeding the beauty limit," he says and winks at the brunette.

The group swoons on the way up to the fourth floor and there are audible sighs when Boone exits.

"Bye bye, now," he says without turning around.

"Hey Lloyd," he says to the lab tech at the evidence counter. "Can I talk to Candy a minute?"

"How you doin', Boone. Candy's on break. Said if you came by you could find her out on the landing," Lloyd says, motioning to the platform on the exterior stair well.

Boone nods and pushes the release bar on the fire door. It unlocks with a loud click and as he opens it, a cloud of cigarette smoke hits him in the face.

"Damn, Candy," Boone says, waving his arm. "You smoke a whole pack out here, girl?"

Candy smiles and blows smoke out of her nose. Her big green eyes are bloodshot and her short blond hair is limp and messy instead of gelled into sexy little spikes.

"Hi Boone," she says and takes another long drag, then drops the butt on the ground and smothers it with a white rubber lab shoe.

"You alright, honey?" Boone says. "You look a little tore up, if you don't mind me saying."

Candy laughs. "That's what I like about you, Boone, you're a straight shooter," she says while pointing her thumb and index finger like a gun. "I'm fine. Just been thinking on some things."

"Oh yeah? Anything I can do to help?"

"Actually there sure is, but we'll talk about that later. I reckon you came by to get results on that evidence you gave me, right?"

"Right. Watchoo got for me, honey?"

"Prints inside and outside the glove belong to none other than our own Officer Jensen. The dead one," Candy says looking straight into Boone's eyes. "But I expect you already knew that, didn't you?" she says in a strange tone.

"No, matter of fact I did not," Boone says with a curious look, feeling like she's playing cat and mouse.

Candy smiles slyly and lights another cigarette.

"Well, alright then. Thank you kindly for processing that on the down low for me, honey. Kind of freaky it turned out to be Jensen's prints," Boone says and laughs.

He turns to go.

"Hold up, Boone," Candy says.

Boone turns around, one hand holding the fire door open.

"Close the door," she says and flicks her ash on the ground.

Boone lets the door close and folds his arms across his chest against the bad vibes radiating from the girl in the white lab coat he thought he could trust.

"I helped you. Now you return the favor," she says.

"Oh? How's that?"

"I got my little cousin's wedding in Odessa next weekend and my date cancelled on me."

Boone's face drops, not believing where this seems to be going.

"I'm the oldest single girl in my family and I got all of them out there thinking I got me a boyfriend just so they'll stop pestering me about it. There's no way I can show up solo unless I want my mama, my sisters and all my damn aunties sending blind dates to my door for the rest of the year."

"Being single's nothing to be ashamed of," Boone says. "But what's this got to do with me anyhow?"

"You're my new boyfriend, baby," Candy says, laughs and kisses him on the cheek.

Boone holds her back. "Now wait a minute! What the hell do you mean?"

"You're gonna be my wedding date, Boone Ellis, that's what I mean," she says.

Boone scrunches his face up in disbelief. "You got to be joking. That's ridiculous. And I'm married. Ain't no way Lucy's gonna let me go out there with you, not that I think it's a good idea myself."

"And that's exactly why you ain't gonna tell her," Candy says. "You say you're going to training or hunting or whatever you please - "

"You're blackmailing me? With my own wife?" Boone says. "What in hell's the matter with you, Candy? This ain't you. This ain't you at all."

She looks down for a split second and then, "I'll tell you what ain't me. Hiding evidence linked to a dead cop, that ain't me, Boone. But that's what I'm doing for you - "

"Goddam Jensen wasn't dead when I asked you to process that glove and I sure as hell didn't have anything to do with him dying!" Boone says loud enough for Candy to put her hand over his mouth. It smells of smoke.

"Shut up! You want to get both of us in trouble?" she says. "What's done is done. And I didn't ask you no questions or put up a fuss when you asked me to print the glove. So you owe me the same when I ask a favor of you, as I see it."

"No. No way. This is way different. You're asking me to lie to my wife. And I ain't gonna do it."

"Fine. That's your choice. Then I ain't gonna lie for you neither. I'll share my print result with the lab supervisor if that's how you wanna go."

Boone puts both hands on his face and sighs. "Dammit, Candy! You know how bad that's gonna make me look. And there's things going on here you don't understand. This is bigger than us. Just leave it alone, will you? You know I had nothing to do with Jensen's death. You know I didn't," Boone says, pleading with her.

"Odessa. One night. You in a suit and me in a party dress, smiling for my family who ain't never seen you and never will again. I don't go home but for weddings and holidays and Christmas is a long ways away. By then maybe I'll have me a real boyfriend," she says, her eyes watering.

"Oh come on now, Candy. You're a pretty girl. No need to get all dramatic about this. Some young man's gonna come around and snatch you up before you know it," Boone says.

"Maybe so. But not before next weekend," she says, back in control. "You can meet me at the hotel. I'll tell the family you couldn't get away from work any earlier. It's one damn night, Boone, and then you can rush home to your precious wife and we'll call it even," she snarls.

"Now I'm done discussing this. Those are my conditions. Yes or no. What's it gonna be?" Candy says.

Boone's cell buzzes with a text. "Hey you fall down a hole or something? We got calls holding," his partner Hank's message reads.

Boone punches the fire door and his knuckles crack with pain. Candy jumps.

"Fine," he says and gets right up against her face. "Let this be the end of it. I didn't take you for no blackmailer, Candy," Boone says. "Big mistake on my part."

He opens the door and disappears down the hall.

Candy exhales and grabs the stair railing for support, her knees almost buckling. She dials the number the man texted her on her cell.

"Yes?" Harris says.

"It's done. He agreed to go with me. Now send me my money," Candy says.

"Was it easy?" Harris asks.

"What?"

"Did he agree to your demand without much of a fight?" Harris says.

"Hell no he did not!" Candy hisses. "And I think I should get more money because of it. That wasn't easy at all. He fought me all the way until I played like I was gonna cry."

"You will get what was previously agreed upon and nothing more," Harris says.

"But - "

"Young lady, you are two inches away from annoying me. Once I am annoyed, the deal is off. You get nothing but a mess to clean up with this officer. Do you understand, you back roads twit?"

"….Yes," Candy says, wanting to follow it with an insult of her own. She bites her tongue for now. "So where's my money?"

"The first half is incoming now. The rest upon delivery of the pictures," Harris says. The phone clicks dead.

Candy walks back into the lab and sits at her computer. She logs into her bank account and keeps refreshing the page until her balance of $232 reads "$5,232".

Hot damn! She's never had that much money in her life. And another 5K on the way next week! She downloads a registration form for the University of Texas forensic certification program. Eager to finally get that certification that will let her become the lab director she deserves be.

* * *

JR sits on the back patio enjoying a bourbon and branch in the late afternoon breeze. He closes his eyes and swirls the liquor around in his mouth, letting it trickle slowly down his dry throat. His cell ringing startles him out of reverie.

"Hello Bum," JR says, "What do you know?"

Bum laughs lightly at JR's characteristic greeting. "I got a good one for you today, JR."

"Oh? Let's hear it," JR says.

"Well that GPS tracker you had me put on Ann's car shows her doing some real odd driving today. She went in circles on highway 30, back and forth on both sides for nearly an hour this morning. Drove about 20 miles each way, then turn around and do it all again," Bum says.

JR sighs. "This fool woman doesn't know who she's messing with. Maybe it's time I show her," JR says.


	26. Chapter 26

JR pulls the curtain back on his balcony door, watching John Ross pack another load of Elena's belongings into his truck. He can see all the way from here that John Ross is miles away. The way his son keeps a distance from that poor girl when she comes close looks so familiar to JR. He knows John Ross is counting the minutes before he can install Elena somewhere, excuse himself with an aching back or whatever else and go off to meet whomever he really wants to be with tonight. As if on cue, John Ross checks his cell phone out by the truck when Elena walks back inside. JR can't help but chuckle.

He closes the curtain on the charade below and sits down at the mahogany desk in the corner of his room. The desk is so small he can touch both ends by extending his arms. _No. This won't do._ How long should he wait to take over Bobby's office downstairs? Maybe he'll announce that at Sunday dinner. JR smiles at the thought.

His eyes drift to a framed photo of Miss Ellie sitting between him and Bobby on the patio, her arms around both, fingers clutching the sides of their necks as if trying to keep them with her forever. A wave of guilt passes over him.

"Oh come on now, Mama. Don't look at me like that," JR says to the picture. "I'm only claiming my rightful place in the family. Well, reclaiming it," he says and turns the photo away from him on the desk. "Bobby doesn't care about such things, never has," JR continues, trying to convince his mother's picture and himself that his intentions are good.

A loud knock on his bedroom door startles him.

"Yeah?" JR says.

John Ross opens the door and looks around the room. "Who you talkin' to, Daddy?"

"Myself," JR says. "I'm nuts, remember?"

"Right. Crazy like a fox," John Ross says.

He tosses a set of keys on JR's desk. "Here. Elena's keys to the cottage," he says and turns to go.

"Wait a minute, John Ross," JR says. "Sit down for a minute. Have a drink with me."

John Ross sighs and shakes his head. "Dad, not now. I'm moving Elena and she'd rather go sooner than later. Can't say I blame her."

John Ross walks to the bedroom door. JR puts the bourbon bottle down.

"Son, turn that girl loose today. Don't let her go on thinking you love her when we both know you don't."

John Ross stops in his tracks. He turns to face JR, expressionless.

"What?" he says.

JR tilts his head. "You heard me, son."

"What I heard was you giving me relationship advice. Do _you_ hear how ridiculous that is?" John Ross says.

JR smiles. "John Ross, what's ridiculous is how long it's taken me to learn that chasing tail is a waste of time. You should set yourself to looking for the one that hangs the moon for you. Until you find her, remember that above all, women want to know the truth, no matter how much it hurts at that moment. They want to know the truth. And they deserve to know it, son, a lot more than we do. We are liars, cheats and scoundrels."

John Ross laughs, JR does not.

"And women?" John Ross asks.

JR smiles softly. "Women are God's finest creation. They're lovers and mothers, unless we push them into a blind fury with our bad deeds. Then they become bent and twisted versions of what they were really meant to be."

John Ross stares at his dad, a puzzled look on his face. He sits on the corner of JR's bed.

"Dad, did you have a small stroke or something?"

"A stroke of genius, maybe. Too bad it's 30 years too late. I told your mother hundreds of lies and every one of them chipped away at her love for me until it was all gone. And there comes a day, John Ross, when you can't get it back."

This time it's JR who turns his back on John Ross.

"Well….," John Ross says, fumbling for words. "You should tell her. You're preachin' about truth telling, so tell it. Tell her you still love her."

"She doesn't want to hear that from me, John Ross."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I just do, that's how. Besides, it's not that simple. You can't just level a field after you've plowed it season after season," JR says.

"What does that even mean, Dad? If you love her, tell her. What more to it is there?"

For once, JR has no answer. A horn blasts several times outside. John Ross looks out the window to see Elena standing next to his truck, her arm inside the cab. She honks the horn several more times when she spots him looking out JR's window.

"I gotta go, Daddy. Grow a pair and tell Mama whatever you need to. You're a Ewing, aren't you?" he says and slaps his Dad on the back on his way out.

The bedroom feels empty after John Ross leaves. His words hang in the air and JR sits alone with them in a bright ray of light from the mid-morning sun. He picks up his cell and scrolls to Sue Ellen's name in the contact list, trying to think of a clever line to invite her to lunch. After a few moments, he puts the phone away.

"Come on, you old fool. What's the matter with you?" he says to himself in the mirror. "You're JR Ewing and you go after what you want. So saddle up."

He changes into a creme linen suit, beige button down shirt, dons a chocolate brushed suede Stetson with a spotted feather braid and heads to Sue Ellen's office.

* * *

Elena's face is flushed with heat by the time she and John Ross finish unloading his truck of her belongings. The lake front condo he leased for her is more spacious than the Southfork cottage and the view so beautiful that it eases Elena's disappointment at not being asked to move in with him a little. She sighs deeply and grabs two cold bottles of beer from the refrigerator.

"Come on babe, let's relax with these on the deck now," she says, holding one beer out to John Ross who stands in the middle of boxes stacked halfway up the living room wall.

John Ross glances at his watch.

"What? You got somewhere to be?" Elena says, teasing him.

"No, no just a habit, that's all. Damn. I'm worn out," he says and slowly follows her out to the teak deck overlooking White Rock Lake.

They sit in reclining deck chairs in silence as the sun begins to hide behind the tall, fragrant pine trees, casting shadows of branches across them like long crooked fingers. John Ross thinks the shadows look like twisted jail cell bars.

"You okay, John Ross?" Elena asks after a few moments.

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Just wiped out is all."

"You seem a million miles away," she says. "What are you thinking about?"

John Ross sighs. "Nothing."

Elena rolls her eyes.

"Well…..just some bullshit my Daddy said. Some more Ewing code bullshit. Same as usual, just dramatics," he says.

Elena knows better than to press for more. "Well, I'm just glad the drama skipped a generation," she says with an unsure smile.

John Ross continues staring at the lake.

"Elena, you're a good girl. You know I want you to be happy, right?"

Elena looks at him in alarm, "Yes?" she says.

John Ross stays quiet.

"John Ross?…Is that it? That's all you're gonna say?"

"Yeah, that's it," he says flatly. "Look, my back's killing me. I'm gonna go on home," he says while standing up.

"Well….wait….let me help you. Rest here. I'll give you a massage," Elena says, her voice high pitched with desperation.

"No. I…..left my muscle relaxers at home. I need to go take one of those and just knock out for the night," John Ross says. He kisses her on the cheek and walks down the deck stairs to his truck, never looking back.

Elena watches him go. He is not walking stiffly. She touches the cheek he quickly kissed and her eyes begin to water. Why does it feel like she'll never see him again?

* * *

John Ross sits in his shiny black truck parked on Clover Street in the middle of the artists' district just outside downtown Dallas. He watches the apartment on the corner of the yellow building's third floor for any sign of Maxine, just as he has for the past two days since Bum got her address from reverse phone number research. John Ross changes stations from country to acid jazz on his satellite radio, something that's become part of his 'surveillance' routine but he's unsure why. He's never listened to that kind of music before.

He closes his eyes for just a minute and lets the hypnotic rhythm take him into orbit. When he opens them, Maxine is walking down her building's porch steps wheeling a laundry basket behind her. John Ross sits straight up in his seat and removes his dark designer sunglasses. Today Maxine wears pink flip flops, cut off jeans and a white cotton tunic. Her hair is covered by a bright pink and orange head scarf tied into intricate knots high up on her head. She has earbuds in her ears and looks to be singing along to the music. Across the street, John Ross' heartbeat quickens and he's sure it's not just from watching that wondrous, tight ass move up and down with each step she takes.

He follows her, driving slowly behind traffic all the way down her block. He laughs nervously, like a teenage boy awkward around girls. Maxine walks so gracefully, like music in motion. She waits for a second at the traffic light for the cross signal as John Ross waits for the green light too, one car between them. He likes that she does not jaywalk. Seconds later they both move forward. She enters a laundromat halfway down the next block and John Ross pulls over to the opposite curb, rolling under the shade of a giant oak tree. He catches a glimpse of himself in his rearview mirror, smiling from ear to ear.

He watches other people going about their daily errands in the neighborhood while regularly checking the laundromat entrance for Maxine. Everyone is dressed casually here, wearing flip flops, tennis shoes or no shoes at all. A lot of cyclists pass by John Ross' truck with fabric shopping bags or long loaves of bread in their bike baskets. A man with long dreadlocks plays drums under the awning of a coffee shop across the street. John Ross opens his tinted window to listen. While bobbing his head to the beats, he notices the other cars passing by on the block, none of which are similar to his professionally waxed, extended cab truck with Italian chrome rims. A lot of older sedans drive past, along with several classic VW buses chugging with age. Several guys that look older than John Ross ride by on skateboards while gripping blank canvasses.

Two thuds on his truck bed cover make John Ross jump. His driver's side view mirror shows Maxine quickly walking up from behind.

"What you doin' here, Ewing?" she shouts in his face.

John Ross leans back from her and puts his sunglasses on. "Who are you?" he says.

"Please," Maxine says. "That's just sad. I'm the girl whose place you been parked outside of for the last two days. Now, you better tell me what in hell you doin' before I call the police on your stalking ass," she says and produces a switchblade.

"Whoa, shit! Calm down ninja! Alright, alright. I…..I just want to talk to you, that's all," he says. "No need to slit my throat over it."

Maxine flicks the blade open and closed over and over without saying anything. John Ross doesn't even look at it. Behind his dark glasses his eyes are taking in every inch of her beautiful face. This is the closest he's been to her. Her skin is like velvet mocha, her big hazel eyes pop with colors of the sea and her thick, pouty lips are so dewy and perfect he wants to bite them on the spot.

"Well I don't want to talk to you," she finally says.

"Why? Why not?" John Ross says. "We can just be friends, you know, hang out. You just seem…..cool, different - "

"Yeah? Well you seem rude and an asshole. Not interested," she says and starts walking away.

"Wait! Come on, Maxine. You don't even know me," he says.

She stops and turns around. "I know what I saw at your Mama's house. How you barged on in and spoke to her like she was the hired help, there to serve you. That's your mother you're talking to. She gave you life and if I were her, I'd be second guessing that decision. You're a rude and spoiled man. What would I want with you?"

John Ross is speechless. This is not how things of this nature usually proceed and he has no experience with this kind of talk, or this kind of woman.

"I'm…..I'm sorry," he simply says.

"Watchoo tellin' me for? I ain't your Mama," Maxine says and shakes her head.

"I know. But….I'm just sorry anyway. And I still want to be friends with you," he says.

"It ain't always about what you want, _Ewing 7_," she calls out to him as she looks at his license plate while walking back to the laundromat.

At that moment, John Ross wants nothing more than to sit beside Maxine waiting for her clothes to dry. He decides to take the first step toward getting there, starts his truck and drives to Sue Ellen's office.

"Who was that?" Maxine's friend asks in the laundromat while folding her clothes.

"Just some rich white boy looking for chocolate candy, is all that was," Maxine says.

"Oh hammercy. He must not know who he dealin' with!" the friend says. Both girls laugh long and hard.


	27. Chapter 27

Ann locks JR's bedroom door behind her and walks softly to his little desk. She looks over her shoulder at the locked door once more, silently cursing JR for making her creep around her own home. She opens a few of the small drawers on the hutch looking for a check book, certain JR is making payments to his contact the old fashioned way.

"Come on you miserable man, where is it?" she whispers.

Careful not to disturb items on the surface, Ann lifts the leather desk blotter up just a few inches and looks underneath. Nothing. She steps back from the desk and a wooden floorboard creeks underneath her boot. Her shoulders tense as she stands frozen in place. She shakes her head with annoyance.

The brass wall clock says she's been snooping around in here for 10 minutes already. Unsure where JR drove off to or how long he'll be gone, she quickens her pace. On her hands and knees, she lifts his dust ruffle and peers under the bed. What's this? Beside the 12 gauge shotgun and Ruger single-shot rifle is a small tin box. Bingo. She reaches as far as she can and barely touches the tip of the box. Adrenalin pumping her pulse in her ears, she quickly grabs the rifle and uses the barrel to scoot the box to her. The tin scrapes loudly against the wooden floor but she doesn't care, eager to get the proof she's looking for and trade it with Ryland to get JR out of her hair.

The box is embossed with nothing more than "JR" on the lid. _I'm so sick of those initials,_ she thinks and grimaces. She struggles with the lid, its corners fighting against her fingers to hold onto the box. One side pops open and Ann pulls the tin lid so hard it bends a bit in the center. Finally, it's open. The inside of the box is lined with blue velvet and its contents….letters? No. The checkbook must be in here somewhere.

She takes out a stack of letters on different kinds of paper and bends them back and forth, looking for something solid. The letters fold easily. No checkbook. One letter falls out of her grasp onto the floor. "My darling Sue Ellen," reads the first line as the page flaps open. Ann stares at the open letter. She looks at the stack in her hand and the pile still in the box, realizing what she's come upon. She puts the letters down and flicks the one on the floor all the way open.

_"My darling Sue Ellen,_

_The leaves are turning on the trees up Southfork's drive. Fall has come again and Father Time is tapping my shoulder; another year without you. My face smiles, my shoulders broad, my back strong, my boots shiny and my hat straight, but inside I am fading away, rusted and covered in the dust of my mistakes. Truth be told, nothing brings me pleasure at all, not the business, not Southfork, not the family, surely not Cally and I'm ashamed to say not even John Ross anymore. This is what your absence is to me Sue Ellen, a void that nothing and no one can fill. There's no more to be done about this misery but give it words. Words you can read someday when my lost soul is dead and gone. I know you won't believe me, but I am thankful you got away from me, honey. You should have been a gentleman's wife._

_Yours, JR"_

Ann wipes a tear from her cheek. What's happening here? She feels like she's fallen down the rabbit hole where everything's turned upside down. The JR Ewing she knows and loathes couldn't possibly write something so emotional and raw. Could not. Would not. She turns the letter over and back, its creases neat and corners unbent. It's dated 1990. She thumbs through the rest of the letters, all just as crisply folded and well-preserved, all to Sue Ellen at regular intervals over the last 30 years. No envelops, only letters. My god. These are words unspoken.

Ann cannot grasp how she is feeling, sitting on JR Ewing's bedroom floor holding a tin full of letters from three decades of lost love, the woman they pine for totally unaware of this heartache. She looks at the top letter's date. JR wrote it just last week. The enormity of her invasive actions here hits Ann hard. She quickly tidies the stack of letters, returns them to their tin box, covers it and tucks it back under the bed.

She sighs deeply and tries to collect herself but the tears keep on. How can someone keep such feelings secret for all these years? She suddenly feels a wave of sympathy for JR and the unsurmountable loneliness he must feel, here in his quiet bedroom with his box of sorrows.

"Stop it!" she says, running her hands through her hair. "Just stop it. Don't be a fool."

She thinks back to last week's Sunday dinner and how JR took over everything from the seating arrangements to throwing Elena off Southfork. _Wake up, Ann. It's only a matter of time before he works his way down the list. And then what? Are you going to sit weeping over someone else's love letters then? When you've lost Bobby and all he provides?_

Ann returns to the task at hand with urgency. She's been inside JR's room for nearly half an hour now.

"Alright, enough of this. Where would I put my check book if I were you, JR?" she says, wiping her red eyes.

She looks in the closet for a portable safe. She searches the nightstand and dresser drawers without luck. She walks slowly around his bed and looks beneath each pillow, on the off chance. What if she can't deliver the proof she bragged about to Harris? No. What she's looking for must be here and she will find it. She slowly scans the room again. This man does love his hats, they're everywhere. _Hats_.

Ann opens his double closet doors again, this time focusing on the custom hat shelving on the left side. She wipes her moist hands on her jeans and gingerly begins lifting each Stetson up from it's holder. On the seventh try, a black checkbook and several passports drop to the closet floor. _Lucky number seven, I should've known._

She quickly flips through the duplicate checks and finds….nothing. What?

"Dammit, JR! How are you paying this guy off? Cash? Cash. Of course," Ann says, embarrassed at her naivete with bribing.

Disappointed, she goes to turn the closet light off when an envelop with the Dallas Cowboys logo tucked in the top of the tie rack catches her eye. The season ticket purchase order is inside but no tickets. She's unsure why this feels odd but goes with her hunch and takes a picture of the seat numbers on the paper with her phone.

She takes a quick look out of JR's balcony window to make sure his car is still gone. It is. After one more once-over of the bedroom, she checks her face in his bureau mirror, smoothes her hair, quietly unlocks his door and slowly opens it.

"What are you doing in JR's room?" Christopher asks as she walks out.

"Oh! Christopher! Well! My goodness….you…you startled me," she says, trying to smile.

Christopher eyes her suspiciously. "Why'd you lock the door?"

"What? Why? Lock the door? I didn't lock the door," she says in a voice much higher than she intended.

"I tried the door just now and it was locked, Ann. I came to put the paper on Uncle JR's desk."

Ann rolls her eyes. "Why? Why do you have to do that? Can't you just leave it downstairs like a normal person?"

"Normal person? What the hell does that mean?" Christopher says. "I'm being nice. I read it in my room and he was already gone when I finished so I thought I'd bring it to him. He likes to read it. Now you still haven't answered either of my questions. What were you doing in his room with the door locked?"

Ann sighs. "Look Christopher," she says, touching his arm. "This won't make any sense to you, I know. Bobby thinks I'm being ridiculous and I'm sure you'll agree but - "

Christopher's expression softens. "Ann, just tell me. What?"

She leads him down the hall, away from JR's room and into the spare bedroom that used to be John Ross' nursery. "JR is trying to throw us all off Southfork, Christopher. It's just started with Elena. And you're next. And after you, it's me and then maybe even Bobby."

Christopher laughs.

"I knew you'd laugh at me. But I'm serious. He wants Southfork and all its oil for himself. And then he'll bring Sue Ellen and John Ross in and that will be the end of it for the rest of us. We'll be down the road before we know it and he'll have Bum or who knows who take care of any inconvenient legalities," Ann says.

"No way, Ann," Christopher says. "Uncle JR cares about this family. So much so that it comes off too controlling sometimes…..okay most of the time. But you're a Ewing and he'll be the first to tell you, Ewings stick together," he says and smiles.

Ann shakes her head. "No. No he doesn't think of me as a Ewing. He doesn't accept me as one. He's already told me as much," she says. "But you wouldn't understand how that feels anyway - "

"Excuse me?" Christopher says. "Are you hearing yourself? I'm adopted, Ann. And I have no interest in oil. And I breed race horses. I know how it feels to be an outsider more than anyone around here, including you."

"Christopher, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you - "

"None taken," he interrupts. "Listen, I'm just saying, I know the Ewings can be a tough crowd sometimes but when it comes down to it, family is at the center of this home. And you're family. You're my Dad's wife and JR respects that. I know he comes on strong but don't let paranoia get the best of you, okay?"

Ann smiles feebly. "I hope you're right," she says and turns to walk away.

"Ann? What were you looking for anyway?" Christopher persists.

Ann turns around slowly. "I don't know," she says. "Just buying into my paranoia, I guess. Don't mention it, please Christopher? JR will never let me live it down."

Christopher looks at her for a moment then says, "You got it. He does like to tease, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," Ann says. "He's a real riot."


	28. Chapter 28

_I just love reading your reviews, thank you! Also to the guests who drop a few words, I appreciate that too. Any indication that people are reading my story just totally floats my boat. Thanks! This is the last chapter in the Archer and the Arrow segment. The next part is called Show and Tell. Its theme is actions speak louder than words and someone's going to get hurt. Please stay tuned!_

* * *

JR's sleek black Mercedes sedan pulls into the parking lot of the skyscraper where Sue Ellen's campaign office occupies the entire fourth floor. He drives to the spaces in the very front of the lot and takes one assigned to a Dr. R. Lewdinsky, whoever that is.

"Ewing trumps any name in Dallas, Lew-din-sky," he says, exiting the car.

His dark brown Lucchese alligator boots gleam in the early afternoon sun and they walk with purpose to the building lobby. The boot skins are made of gator belly, the most vulnerable part of an otherwise ferocious predator. _Don't kick me in the belly, Sue Ellen._

JR enters the empty elevator lined with mirrors. The old man looking back at him catches him off guard.

"Good lord," he says and pinches his cheeks. "Why so pale?"

He chuckles at the flutters in his stomach and his smile breathes life into his face. Pleased, he adjusts his chocolate Stetson just so and leaves the elevator with a twinkle in his eye, already enjoying the chase.

"Good afternoon, darlin'," JR says to Susana and leans on the secretary's counter.

Susana looks up from her computer and her eyes grow big. "Oh, Mr. Ewing, afternoon. How may I help you?"

"Well if you'll just point me in the direction of Sue Ellen's office, I'd be obliged," he says and winks.

Susana smiles, taking in the sight of the man she's heard of, read about and only seen from afar.

"Honey?" JR says, snapping her back to present.

"Yes, yes of course. I mean, actually….well…Mrs. Ewing is on an important conference call at the moment."

JR smiles at the 'Mrs. Ewing' part. "Is she now? Well, you know I come all the way out from Southfork ranch. Be a shame just to turn around and go right back without saying hello."

Susana stands and leans on her counter as well. Their arms touch. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind you waiting in her office," Susana says, pointing down the hall. "That way and to your left. The corner space at the end of the hall."

"Thank you honey," JR says and reaches into his pants pocket. He retrieves a moderate stack of bills folded in a gold money clip with 'JR' studded in diamonds. He removes a bill from the outside of the fold.

"You and that boy in the picture over there have yourself a nice dinner on JR, will you darlin'?" he says, giving the $100 bill to Susana.

"Oh. Mr. Ewing, um, really? I mean, I…don't think I can accept this."

"Well why in hell not? Everyone's too uptight at the sight of a little generosity anymore. Now make an old man happy and have a nice evening with this, will you please sweetheart?" JR says and tips his hat.

"Alright….I believe I will, then. Thank you, thanks very much, Mr. Ewing."

Susana watches JR Ewing walk down the hall. The man is old enough to be her grandfather but he has more swagger than any young man she's ever met.

"Hay, Dios mio," she whispers.

JR turns the corner and sees his big white orchid on the desk through the outer glass walls of the large corner office. He walks in and inhales Sue Ellen's perfume, the unmistakeable scent of Chanel makes him wet his lips. He takes a long, slow look around the white office, its walls lined with various awards and recognition. He walks around to the other side of Sue Ellen's glass desk, wanting to see what she sees when she sits there.

His face softens and he smiles slightly at the photo of little John Ross on a pony, clutching that horribly worn out blue teddy bear. JR holds the reigns and smiles big at the camera. _Where has the time gone?_

"And I'm still holding the reigns, boy," JR says and sighs. "You got to pull your own bow back soon. Arch your own arrow."

He sits in Sue Ellen's red leather desk chair and looks around. Before he knows it, he's opening a desk drawer.

"Can I help you find something?" Aubrey says, standing in the doorway.

"What's that?" JR says, hiding his surprise. The girl walked up quiet as a cat.

Aubrey curls her red lips into a smile and her big green eyes blink slowly. "You seem to be looking for something, Mr. Ewing. Can I help you find it?"

JR chuckles. "No, no honey. Just passin' time waiting on Sue Ellen. Story of my life," he says with a smile. "And who might you be, you pretty young thing?"

Aubrey walks in and sits on a corner of Sue Ellen's desk, her black skirt rising halfway up her thighs. "Me? I'm Aubrey," she says and holds out her hand. JR kisses it and tips his hat. He swears she purrs like a kitten.

"Well what do you do here, Aubrey?" JR says.

"Stir up trouble," she says without blinking at eye.

JR smiles, intrigued. "Is that right? Well - "

"Aubrey," Susana says in the doorway. "You have a call. I've been buzzing you on the line."

Aubrey rolls her eyes at JR, turns around and walks out without saying a word to Susana.

"Mrs. Ewing should be wrapping the call up soon," Susana says to JR. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yes, thank you, honey. I'll have a bourbon on the rocks with a splash of water, and make it a double if you please."

"Oh. Um, no…I'm sorry. We don't have any liquor in this office….."

JR laughs. "Ah well that's probably best. I'll just whet my whistle at lunch then, honey. Thank you anyway."

Susana leaves the office.

JR pivots slowly in Sue Ellen's chair. He feels the arm rests with his hands and closes his eyes. _What is she like in this room? How does she act? Speak? Feel? Does she ever bite her lower lip from nerves while sitting in this big red chair? Or is this new Sue Ellen some kind of fearless crusader?_ How much of his Sue Ellen is still there, he wonders. He looks down at the desk. A pen lays on top of some papers bearing her signature. The pen is encased in mother of pearl and embossed with her name in gold script. JR puts the pen in his pocket.

* * *

"Mrs. Harlow, I can't tell you how thrilled I am to speak with you today," Sue Ellen says into the speaker on the conference room table.

Mark smiles and nods.

"Oh well thank you, Sue Ellen, but I don't know there's a whole lot to be thrilled about, honestly," the First Lady says. "I'm just a citizen working for a better America, just like you."

"Well I admire your work with mental health and substance abuse, two causes that are part of my healthcare platform and, as you may know, dear to my heart," Sue Ellen says.

"That's why I wanted to speak to you personally," the First Lady says. "You struck a cord with your press statement in response to those tasteless DUI pictures of you online. And I am sorry for that, Sue Ellen. The internet can be a playground for the ills of society, can't it?"

"Yes, it certainly can," Sue Ellen says.

"Well, my mother was an alcoholic, as I'm sure you know because you seem like someone who does their homework. She died of the disease and the shame that kept her from getting help," Mrs. Harlow pauses.

Sue Ellen looks at Mark, unsure if she should speak. Mark nods his head, encouraging her.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to presume, but I know how that feels," Sue Ellen says.

The First Lady stays quiet.

Sue Ellen continues. "You drink to feel better and you do until one day you feel worse. And you know you need help but you need a drink for the courage to ask for it and while you're drunk you don't want help. And on it goes until, if you're lucky, you step outside of the misery one day and start piecing your broken self back together. Looking back, I really don't know how I managed to do that. But I do know that I would be dead today without the coping skills I learned in my substance abuse program. For me it was AA that worked. For others, it might be something else. But no one survives this without professional help. And no one gets it unless they ask for it."

"I agree. And so does my husband, to a larger extent with his health care battle."

Sue Ellen's hazel eyes grow wide at the mention of the President, the reality of who she's talking so personally with setting in.

"Yes, ma'am, I fully support nationalized health care," Sue Ellen says. "The working uninsured are of primary concern to me and my agenda is a voice for those with pre-existing conditions, too. It's criminal, how they're….we're…..treated by the insurance industry. And I plan to do something about it here in Texas. If I'm elected," Sue Ellen adds.

"If I may ask," the First Lady says, "how are you feeling, Sue Ellen? How's your health? Are you strong enough for this? Campaigning is not for the faint of heart, you know. It's a real beast, truth be told."

"I'm feeling very well, thank you," Sue Ellen says. "My HIV infection level has been undetectable for quite some time and I feel fully capable of seeking and winning this post. If I didn't, I wouldn't present myself to voters as a viable choice no matter how much I want to experience campaigning. That's just dishonest."

There is silence on the other line. Mark checks the speaker light to make sure they're still connected. He gives Sue Ellen a thumbs up.

"Mrs. Harlow?" she says.

"Yes, I'm here. I was just sending a quick email to my press secretary that I've decided to publicly support your bid for candidacy," she says.

Sue Ellen gasps. She is speechless. Now it's the First Lady who calls out to her.

"Sue Ellen?"

"Yes, yes ma'am, I'm here. I'm pinching myself! Can I ask you to repeat that, please?" Sue Ellen says, smiling.

Mrs. Harlow laughs. "I support your bid for Texas governor, Sue Ellen. And you can run with that. My press secretary will issue a statement by the end of the day. Good luck to you. You're a kind, brave and honorable woman, Mrs. Ewing, and I hope the political machine won't be your demise. Stay the course and get ready to take hits once my name is next to yours. I hope you've got as much fight in you as I think you have. You take care now," she says and hangs up.

The little green light on the speaker goes dark. Mark picks up the phone receiver and listens just in case. Dial tone. He hangs up and shouts "Whooooo! Holy shit!" and pumps his fist in the air.

"Mark! My god! Did that just happen?" Sue Ellen says, pacing the room.

"Hell yes. Yes! This is huge. To be honest, I don't even know what to do at this moment. You've never even held office before and the First Lady of the United States is endorsing you? Sue Ellen, this is a big win, about as big as it gets for this campaign," Mark says, smiling from ear to ear.

"We should wait until her statement's released. What if she changes her mind, or someone changes it for her?" Sue Ellen says.

"That didn't sound like a woman who's easily swayed. I think you've got this, Sue Ellen, I really do. But yes we'll wait. It's the respectful thing to do to let her break the news."

"Well come on," Sue Ellen says. "We're going to celebrate anyway, right now. I'm taking you to lunch, Mark. The grandest lunch you've ever had! Let's enjoy this victory," she says and walks to her office, Mark in step behind her.

"Oh! JR?," Sue Ellen says. "What are you doing here?"

JR gets up from Sue Ellen's desk chair and smiles. "I'm here to take you to lunch, sugar! Come on, grab your bag and let's go. I thought you'd never get off the damn phone."

Mark turns to walk back to his office.

"No, hold on Mark," Sue Ellen says.

"How you doin', Mark," JR says taking Sue Ellen's arm.

She puts her hand on his chest. "JR, I'm not free for lunch today, I'm sorry. Mark and I are just heading out. We, uh, we have a lot to discuss," she says and pats JR on the shoulder.

He looks at her in disbelief. "Oh come on now, can't you two do your discussing after lunch? You're here all day, for cryin' out loud. I only want you to myself for an hour or so," he says, removing his hat.

"It's fine, Sue Ellen," Mark says but Sue Ellen holds up her hand.

"No, we made plans and I intend to keep them," she says. "I'm sorry, JR. Next time, call first and I'll make sure I'm free. But listen, I'll see you at Tail Feather Farm for my fundraiser Friday night, right? I hear you bought a ticket," she says and smiles sweetly.

JR puts his hat back on, not believing he's being denied. "Well…..yeah…..yes I'll be there," he says.

"Great!" she says and walks down the corridor with Mark, leaving JR standing in the hallway. He taps the outline of the pen in his pocket, watching her walk away.

* * *

The elevator doors ding open in the lobby. Sue Ellen and Mark walk out as John Ross walks in.

"John Ross!" she says.

"Oh hey Mama, I was just comin' up to see you."

The three step away from the elevator.

"My goodness, both of you visiting me on the same day? I don't know if I can handle all this attention!" she says and giggles.

"Who? Who else came by?" John Ross says.

"Your Daddy," Sue Ellen says. In fact I left him looking dejected in my office. Why don't you go up and take him to lunch?"

"Daddy's here? Now?" John Ross shakes his head. "Well I'll be damned," he says.

"Why? What does that mean?" Sue Ellen says.

"Nothing. Just, well, nothing," John Ross replies.

Sue Ellen looks puzzled. "Well what do I owe this surprise to? I don't think you've come to see me here but once before. Is everything alright?"

John Ross clears his throat and looks at Mark.

"Oh, here, let me give you some privacy. I'll be by the fountain, Sue Ellen," Mark says.

She nods. "What is it, honey?" she says to John Ross and pats his cheek.

"No Mama, everything is not alright. I…..I treated you badly the other day at your house, when you had that dog walker girl there."

Sue Ellen's eyes widen, not believing what she's hearing.

"I'm sorry Mama. I said some mean and disrespectful things. And I'm sorry," he says and looks down.

Her eyes growing misty, Sue Ellen cannot speak. Instead she grabs her son and holds him close. She holds on to him as long as she can, treasuring every second, before he begins to pull away.

Seeing her tears, he says, "Oh damn, I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's okay, honey," she says, quickly wiping her eyes. "These are good tears. You'll understand when you're a parent, you'll see."

He smiles. "Well it looks like you're going somewhere so I'll be on my way," he says.

She wants to invite him along to lunch but something tells her to take this at John Ross' own pace. She gives him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you soon, John Ross. And I love you," she says.

John Ross turns to go. He walks out of the building lobby feeling more like a man than the boy he walked in as moments before.


	29. Show And Tell Chapter 29

There is a noticeable hush in the office buzz when Judith Ryland strides through the glass doors of Ryland Transportation. She wears white from head to toe, even her short, glossy hair is a brighter, whiter shade of blonde today. Diamond studs sparkle on her ears and the stones are so big, people who don't know better would surely think they're fake. Everyone here knows better, everyone but the poor new girl at the secretary's desk.

Judith marches down the aisle toward Harris' corner office without so much as a nod to anyone she passes.

"Haaarrisss!" she calls out while removing her white leather gloves.

The new girl jumps in her seat.

"Uh oh," whispers a girl at the dispatch desk. "The tigress is baring her claws."

Judith tosses the gloves on the secretary's desk and is about to open Harris' door when the girl says, "I'm sorry ma'am but you cannot go in there right now. Mr. Ryland is not to be disturbed."

The secretary snaps her head toward gasps coming from the rest of the office staff. Judith stops in her tracks and turns to face the secretary who taps a pencil casually on her desk blotter, totally unaware of the career suicide she is committing.

A wry smile slowly spreads over Judith's thin coral lips.

"What's your name, miss?" Judith asks.

"Lydia," the girl says with a bright smile.

"Well Lydia, do you know _my_ name?"

"Uh - "

"No. No you couldn't possibly know my name and have made that grievous mistake," Judith interrupts.

"Ma'am?" the secretary says, amused, "what mistake might that be?"

Judith snatches the pencil out of her hands and snaps it in half, letting the two pieces fall down on the metal desk with a ping.

"I beg your pardon!" the girl says.

"Yes, oh yes you should beg it," Judith says, her eyes dark holes of bottomless rage. "I am Judith Ryland," she says and the girl's eyes grow big.

Judith continues, clearly enjoying the moment, "And I own things," she says, stifling a giggle. "I own that pencil, this desk, the chair your large body sits on, this building, all those trucks out in the lot and the man behind this door who, what did you say….cannot be disturbed?"

The girl's chin starts trembling and Judith sighs in disgust.

"Pack your things. You're miscast here," she says to her.

"But this is my first day," the girl says, holding back tears.

"And your last," Judith says with a wide smile as she opens Harris' door and disappears behind it.

"I fired your secretary," she says to Harris who sits behind his glass desk with his back to her. He gazes out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the big parking lot of Ryland trucks far below.

"Turn around, Harris. You're being rude."

"Harris cracks his neck from side to side before slowly turning his chair around.

"Mother," he says with a tight smile. "What a surprise. What brings you by this morning?"

"Who did you anger, Harris?"

"What?"

"You heard me," Judith says and lobs her white Chanel patent leather clutch onto the middle of his desk. His papers flutter to the floor.

"Who's angry enough with you to tax my fleet with $133,000 worth of fines in just two days?" Judith says.

Harris inhales deeply. "Trucks get fined, mother. It's the price we pay for moving product quickly. We overload, remember? And sometimes we get caught. Dial down your paranoia."

Judith stares at Harris until he looks away. She slowly walks around his desk, running her long French manicured nails along the glass edge. Little scraping sounds make Harris want to cringe but he does not. Judith sits on his lap, turns his face to her and slaps it hard. Harris grabs the arm rests of his chair so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"Don't lie to me, Harris," she says still sitting on his lap.

A red welt starts forming on his left cheek. Judith pouts her lips, kisses her finger and pats the welt softly.

"Oh why did you make me do that, darling?" she says.

Harris sits unmoving and silent.

"Now tell me who it is so I can take care of it. You're in over your head, aren't you?" Judith says.

Little beads of sweat are appearing on Harris' forehead. He wants to stand up so fast that Judith is launched clear across the room.

Harris looks straight into his mother's eyes. "I'm taking care of it, mother. I don't need your help," he says and pats her knees sheathed in sheer silk stockings. Judith crosses her legs, bringing one knee into Harris' stomach. She moves it up and down, feeling his torso muscles contract against it. She laughs wildly, startling him, and gets off his lap.

"Oh Harris, you're so adorable when you try to be tough," she says and picks up her purse. "It's just not in you, my little prince. But you have a try at it, if you like, and I'll be here when you fail," she says over her shoulder as she walks out the door.

Harris picks up the nearest model truck and hurls it at the closed door, sending it to the floor in pieces. On the other side, Judith hears the crash and smiles.

* * *

Ann cycles through all the radio stations programmed on her car stereo twice without hearing any music to suit the mood. She turns it off and leans her seat back. It's five minutes past 11 in the morning. Harris is never late. She releases some anxiety with a deep breath and a big sigh. What is she doing here? She fingers her wedding band. Saving her home from her husband's misguided kindness, that's what.

She straightens her seat and taps her fingers on the steering wheel. Several trucks are scattered in this rest stop parking lot 30 some miles outside Dallas. A few men walk into the coffee shop and Ann squishes her face up in disgust. She knows these kind of men and what they want when they lay over in town for the night.

Suddenly her chest vibrates with the sound of a strong engine at full throttle. Harris' black Ferrari turns into the lot and slows to a crawl looking for her black Range Rover. Ann thinks how much his car looks like a cobra slithering along the dirt to its prey. He spots her and revs his engine, coasting over and pulling up facing opposite so their driver's sides meet.

He removes his sunglasses and smiles. "You look like you're going to be sick, Annie. What's the matter? Don't have the stomach for bribery?"

Ann tosses her hair. "Don't be silly. It's hot and you've kept me waiting in this parking lot full of fat, disgusting men in overalls."

Harris chuckles. _Little Annie, so much feistier than she looks._ He changes his train of thought before he becomes aroused.

"Yes, well, I had an unexpected visitor," he says.

"Oh? You don't like surprises. Don't they know that?" Ann says.

"Yes," Harris says, clenching his jaw.

Ann pauses and cocks her head. "Oh. I know," she says, smiling, "I know who it was. The only person you'd allow to keep you from me. Judith! Judith came to see you!" she says, throws her head back and laughs.

Harris' eyes narrow and he glares at her.

"You're in trouble, aren't you Harris? You're mother's noticed the tickets, hasn't she?" Ann claps her hands together. "Let's see, she demanded to know who's behind this, right? Poor Harris, still doesn't play well with others. And Judith wants to fix it but you've told her it's handled, haven't you? Oh you're in a pickle, Harris," Ann says and laughs so hard she snorts gasping for breath.

Harris' pale face becomes mottled with shades of red. The blotches of pigment travel up to his bald head and also down his neck. Furious, he gets out of the car and puts his face right up against Ann's.

"Listen to me you smug bitch. Have you forgotten who you are? Hhmm?" he says as Ann continues giggling.

"You know Harris, I think I've changed my mind. Deal's off," she says and starts her car.

Harris reaches for his cell, quickly scrolls through some screens then holds the phone inches from Ann's face. She stops laughing and her smile fades.

"Yes? Well change it back," he says, "or these photos of you in your previous career end up in Bobby's email. You were trash then and you're trash now. You just have a new coat of paint."

Ann's green eyes blaze at him and she turns her car off. "You're your mother's son, aren't you? Get in."

Now it's Harris smiling as he slides in beside her. She looks straight ahead, trying not to appear defeated. This is when Harris lusts for her most; the moment when she realizes she's outplayed. He licks his lips and runs his hand along the inside of her thigh, gripping the inseam of her jeans with his finger nails. The sensation is oddly pleasing, to both of them.

"Stop it!" Ann finally says, pushing his hand away.

"Oh Annie," he coos. "You haven't been tended to in quite some time from the looks of things. Not like I do it, anyway."

She turns her head away and looks out the window.

"I know every curve, every crevice," he says, pushing his hand deeper between her legs. "Let me loosen it all up for you Annie, right here, right now," Harris whispers and suddenly squeezes her right breast tightly.

Ann gasps and grabs his hand. For a second she pushes it further into her breast, then pries it off and slaps the same cheek his mother did.

"Get your hands off me! You're pathetic, stuck in the past. I've moved on, Harris. And up," Ann says straightening her olive silk blouse.

Harris wants to kiss the smirk off of her face. His eyes settle on her long, slender ivory neck. He wants to wrap his hands around it and squeeze until her eyes roll back into her head.

As if sensing his deviance, Ann scoots further away from him. "Back to business," she says. "I overheard JR on the phone to Bum Sunday night talking about squeezing you with commercial enforcement. He's paying off his contact in cash. I couldn't find any record of payment in his room."

Harris raises an eyebrow at the mention of searching JR's room.

"But I did find something interesting. JR's had season tickets to the Cowboys for years and I found an envelop from the team in his closet but no tickets inside. Only the seating chart showing his assigned box," Ann says and hands Harris a copy of the photo she took with her cell. I'd bet whoever's sitting in JR's box is involved in this deal somehow. Maybe brokered it for him," she says.

Harris looks at the paper, expressionless. He outlines the box on the stadium's seating map with his index finger and then makes circles around it like a bullseye. He folds the paper and puts it in his shirt pocket.

He smiles at Ann and reaches for the door handle when she says, "Harris? What are you going to do to JR?"

He runs his hand down his salt and pepper facial hair and straightens his silver tie atop his black shirt. Then he taps Ann's nose with one finger like you might a child and says, "Exactly what you asked, Annie," then exits her car.

Ann's widened eyes follow Harris around the front of her car and into his Ferrari. "Harris!" she calls out to him through his open window, looks around and whispers, "How will I know when it's done?"

"You'll be summoned to the hospital Friday night. Or the morgue if all goes well," he says and starts the car.

Ann laughs nervously. "So if he's at breakfast Saturday, you failed…..or lost your nerve," she says.

Seeing the look on Harris' face now, she regrets that remark. The cunning and ruthless Harris looks back at her; the quiet storm she was lucky to escape. Harris doesn't say a word but makes a gun out of his index finger and thumb, smiling wryly. He pulls the imaginary trigger at Ann and speeds off leaving her to choke on a dust cloud.

A small distance down the highway Harris screams in rage. A guttural sound explodes in the small interior of his Ferrari and he hits his steering wheel with both hands repeatedly, imagining he is bludgeoning Judith, Ann, Sue Ellen and every other woman who's ever mocked him.

His thoughts turn to the mighty JR Ewing.

"Your days are numbered, you son of a bitch. You should have stayed out of this. You think you own me? You don't," he says just as a little prairie dog scurries across the road in front of him. Harris swerves his car to purposely run over it.


	30. Chapter 30

_Such thoughtful, amazing reviews, thank you! To the actress person, just wow. I appreciate your insight so much!_

* * *

Ruby rests on her red velvet chair in front of the big beveled window in the parlor sipping brandy from a large snifter at quarter of 10 in the morning. She doesn't swirl the liquid around the glass and inhale the aroma or any of that carrying on. She takes rapid sips but not hastily so. When she lifts the the snifter to her mouth this time, only a drop of brandy remains. Ruby peers into the empty glass and scowls. Maybe she'll have another.

A yellow classic Volkswagen bug chugs up to the curb between Sue Ellen's and Ruby's expansive driveways. That brandy will have to wait. Ruby wiggles and flexes her small feet in their gold metallic ballet slippers. Seems they've fallen asleep perched on the ottoman.

"Wake up you sons of bitches!" she yells to her feet, flinging them onto the hardwood floor.

"Good for nothing feet. Y'all fall right to sleep at the first opportunity, don't you? Just like a couple of lazy workers."

She shakes her head and glares at them like they are adversaries. She wishes she hadn't sent Paul off for groceries just yet. What if she can't get up to answer the door for Sue Ellen's new girl Maxine? Ruby puts one foot on her knee and punches it with her fist. Her foot is so numb she doesn't feel a thing.

"Lord! Why must I fight on with these worthless feet? I'm a good soldier, a damn good one, you got to agree. And I need me some feet that's in working order. Have mercy, Father, and lay your healing hands on me," she asks with her eyes closed tight.

When she opens them moments later, the girl is still sitting in her yellow car. Ruby picks up the little binoculars always at the ready on the end table. The black girl in the car is swaying to music, her mouth moving in song. She shakes her head around making her dark copper curls bounce like little springs. At five minutes to 10, she stops singing, bows her head and kisses a pendant around her neck before getting out and striding up to Ruby's door.

Maxine knocks hard three times. "Maxine the dog walker, Miss Ruby!" she shouts through the closed door.

Startled at the sound, Ruby jumps to her numb feet and nearly falls over backwards. She steadies herself on the end table and the brandy snifter crashes to the floor.

"Dammit!" Ruby yells.

"Ma'am?" Maxine shouts through the door.

"Hold your horses, gal! Just hold on a minute."

Ruby sighs heavily at the sight of her father's snifter in pieces on the floor.

"You never did like me sippin' the brown water, did you Daddy?" she says with a passing smile. She sighs again and walks carefully and unsteadily around the broken glass, reaching out for the door frame as she rounds the corner into the foyer.

"What's happened in here, ma'am?" Maxine says as Ruby opens her front door with elaborate stained glass panels.

"Nothin' but you giving an old woman a fright with your loud mouth," Ruby says.

Maxine laughs so hard Ruby jumps back a little but before she knows it, she is laughing too.

"Yes, ma'am," Maxine manages to say. "Guilty as charged. I do have me a mouth, don't I? Believe it or not, you ain't the first one to notice," she says with a big smile. "Now what broke in here? I heard the crash. You alright?" Maxine asks while walking right past Ruby and into the house.

"Hey! Not a step further without a proper introduction, missy," Ruby says.

Maxine turns around and offers her hand. "My apologies Miss Ruby. Maxine Mosqueda. How do, ma'am?"

"Mos-que-da? What in hell kind of name is that? Sounds like 'mosquito' to me," Ruby says as she shakes Maxine's hand. Upon contact, Ruby feels that rare and unmistakeable connection. _Well ain't this a surprise. Kindred spirits. And the two of us different as night and day_.

Maxine gives Ruby a sideways look. "I know you didn't just insult my Daddy by likening his good name to a blood sucking bug." The two women stare each other down until Ruby breaks into laughter.

"Come on girl, lemme fix you a cold drink," Ruby says.

"Thank you kindly, Miss Ruby, but I got to get to walkin' Sue Ellen's dogs. That's what I'm paid to do. If you've the time after I've done my hour, I'll gladly take that drink with you," she says while looking at photos of Ruby's travels on the foyer walls.

She stops at a beautiful gold frame with ornate scrolls and a large fleur de lis on the top.

"Who's this dark boy here?" Maxine asks.

Ruby pauses before answering. "One of the finest human beings I have ever known and likely ever will, if you must know."

Maxine cocks her head at Ruby's response. "Huh. Ain't that somethin'," she says.

She looks at her watch, back at the picture and then starts toward the front door. Upon passing the parlor entry, she sees the broken glass on the floor.

"Ooh that's the crash I heard outside. What happened in here, Miss Ruby?"

"Never you mind about it," Ruby says. "You sure ask a lot of questions, gal."

"Yes ma'am, I do. They say that's a sign of a sharp mind."

"Who's they?"

"The sharp-minded people, I reckon," Maxine says. "Where's your broom and pan? Lemme clean this up before you cut yourself."

Ruby feels this girl disarming her with sincerity and kindness. She does not resist. She's grown a bit weary lately, it's true. Maxine is filling her cup and she is grateful. _You're a gift from above, ain't you girl? And you don't even know it._

"Back pantry in the kitchen through the dining room on the right," Ruby says, pointing.

Maxine fetches the cleaning equipment as quickly and confidently as if she is in her own home. She carefully scoops up the jagged glass into the pan, making sure the area is safe again. She dumps the pieces into Ruby's outside trashcans, taking note of the guest house out back, simple pots of purple, red and white hibiscus on the little porch.

On her way back to the foyer, Maxine stops at the picture of the dark boy again. She takes it off the wall to get a closer look at his face. He's more a man than a boy, she decides. The frame is much heavier than she expected and she turns it around in curiosity. The back panel is stamped 14K.

_This old white southern belle's got a man black as night framed in gold hanging on her wall. This is an interesting day indeed._ She returns the frame to its nail and walks into the parlor.

"I'm ready, if you please, Miss Ruby."

"Come on then," Ruby says, getting up from the chair with considerable effort. Maxine offers her arm and Ruby takes it without hesitation. Upon rising, she touches Maxine's cheek tenderly. "Thank you, honey," she says.

After letting Maxine into Sue Ellen's backyard and watching her walk off toward the park with the two dogs in perfect step beside her, Ruby goes to the foyer and straightens the gold-framed picture on the wall.

"I see what you done here," Ruby says to the photo, slowly nodding her head. She cannot bring herself to say any more. Instead she kisses her finger and taps it against the picture's glass.

* * *

"Finally," John Ross says as Maxine walks down the sidewalk with his mother's dogs. He gets out of his car down the street and follows her, surprised at her fast clip. Excitement nips at him and he hustles his pace, all the while mesmerized by Maxine's tight, round booty bobbing left and right in her faded jeans. When he's just an arm's length behind her, he notices a little gap in the waist of her pants at the small of her back. Sexy.

Maxine turns on a dime and faces him. "Whatchoo want, boy?"

"Oh!" John Ross says.

"Oh? You're following me again and you're gonna act like you're surprised to see me, _again_?" she says, hand on hip. The dogs scamper about her feet, wanting to continue their walk.

John Ross laughs and runs his fingers through his hair, making his bicep flex. He'd like to kiss that sassy mouth.

Maxine turns to go.

"Wait!" he yells.

She does.

He walks around in front to face her, and block her path.

She transfers both leashes to one hand and throws the other one up in the air. "Well? What do you want?" she says.

"I….well….I just want to talk to you," John Ross says, surprising himself with the truth. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets.

"I'm working, John Ross. For your mother. I'm paid to walk these here dogs, not talk to you."

"You can't walk and talk at the same time?" he teases. "Not a multi-tasker, huh?"

He smiles genuinely. It catches Maxine off-guard, if only for a moment.

"I guard my time," she says, trying to push him back emotionally. "And you're not getting any of it. Just because your Mama owns the biggest, fanciest house on this street don't mean you can lay claim to everything on it."

"Lay claim? What are you talking - "

"Go home, John Ross Ewing, and call a girl who's impressed with you."

He flinches slightly but enough for Maxine to notice. He looks down at his feet. Maxine meant to turn and go but she doesn't and is unsure why.

When John Ross looks up, his face is flushed. He takes his hands out of his pockets and says, "I apologized to my Mama for treating her so rude when you were over the other day."

Maxine is about to insult him but he interrupts.

"And I just wanted to thank you for helping me see that. You make me want to be a better person," he says, turns and walks away.

Maxine stands on the sidewalk under the hot Dallas sun watching this foolish boy in a handsome man's body walk away from her and wonders why she suddenly wants him to stay. She shakes her head and blames it on the heat. The dogs lay panting on the grass.

"Come on boys, sorry about that," she says and tugs their leashes. Both jump up and Crockett walks ahead but Bowie turns around and watches John Ross go. The dog presses himself against Maxine's leg and whimpers softly.

* * *

"Well glory be," Ruby says. "Hell has surely frozen over."

She looks out her parlor window at John Ross washing Maxine's dirty yellow car. For the next half hour in the blazing heat he scrubs, rinses and polishes the Volkswagen bug until it shines like the sun. As he gathers up his supplies, Ruby goes out to give him a cold drink.

"Well what's all this fuss about, John Ross?"

"Afternoon, Miss Ruby. Just washing Maxine's car."

"I see that. What put you up to it?"

"It was dirty," he simply says and turns to go.

"Hang on there, son," Ruby says.

John Ross turns back around, shoulders slumped, expecting a lecture.

"It looks real nice," she says. "Here. Cool off for a minute with this sweet tea. Must be close to a hundred degrees out here."

John Ross takes the tea and drains the liquid in a few gulps. He holds the chilled glass to his sweaty forehead for a moment and then hands it back to her.

"Thanks. You have a good day, Miss Ruby," he says and walks away.

"You ain't gonna wait for her to come back and see this gussied up car?" Ruby calls after him.

"Nope. She doesn't want to talk to me. She made that real clear," he says and starts walking back to Sue Ellen's garage again.

Ruby winces and pats the gold cross around her neck. "John Ross, people change their minds all the time," she says standing on her lawn. "I just did."

* * *

"Who washed my car?" Maxine asks Ruby walking into her foyer, two tired but content dogs in tow.

Bowie and Crockett flop down on Ruby's cool marble entryway floor, yawning and panting lightly.

"Why do you like dogs so much, honey?" Ruby asks, ignoring Maxine's question.

"Well, I like a lot of things about them. But mostly, I suppose it's because dogs give perfect love. Neglect them, betray them, even abandon them and they still want to love you. Bible says man is made in God's image. I don't think so. I say dogs are. They're the most loving creatures on earth. They'll fight to the death for you whether you deserve it or not, just like Jesus did," Maxine says.

Ruby smiles, growing fonder of Maxine with every conversation.

"That boy you kicked to the curb today washed your car," she says.

Maxine scrunches her eyes up. "John Ross?"

"That's the one."

"My, my, he just don't quit, do he?" Maxine says.

Ruby leads Maxine into the parlor, limping over to her red chair where two tall cold glasses of sweet tea sit on the end table. Parched, Maxine takes one and sits on the ottoman at Ruby's feet.

"Listen honey," Ruby says, leaning back in her chair. "Some people are like them dogs you love so much. No matter what happens, their hearts stay open, ready to give and receive. Others, well they get knocked down and they go inside and lock the door, throw away the key, even."

Maxine listens and Bowie trots into the parlor to check on her, sitting at her feet.

"John Ross ain't had it so easy," Ruby continues. "His mama and daddy used him like a weapon to get at each other and he's damaged for it. He's come to resent that. He didn't have many examples of forgiveness so he keeps the anger instead. Now I'll be honest with you, I don't much like the boy myself. Don't care for his selfish ways at all. But I think you got the key to John Ross' locked up door, girl. You don't have to promise nothing, but why don't you open it and see who walks out?"

Maxine takes the last sip of sweet tea and swirls it around her mouth, considering Ruby's words. She pats Bowie on the head and he licks her hand repeatedly, his big amber eyes giving thanks for a wonderful walk. When she looks back to Ruby, the old woman is massaging her foot and grimacing in pain.

"Give 'em here," Maxine says. "Come on."

She holds out her hands and Ruby sticks her stocking feet out. Maxine massages them for the next 10 minutes, working the sore, stiff ligaments and tendons into warm and supple muscles again. It feels fantastic.

"You know I asked for healin' hands on me today," Ruby says. "You've got the magic touch, honey. If you can bring my tired old feet back to life, I bet you can melt John Ross' ice cold heart, too." She winks. "Give him a chance, Maxine. He needs it."


	31. Chapter 31

_Author's note: I do appreciate all reviews and opinions so thanks for taking time to share with me. I realize my story is not what might be considered traditional fan fiction with a sole focus on original characters so I'm thrilled people are still reading. I hope I can continue earning your interest!_

* * *

Harris Ryland leaves the Mercedes dealership with a newly cut master key in exchange for a few thousand dollars to the mechanic he watched constantly wipe his nose while working on cars this afternoon. The thin boy's eyes jumped around in true addict fashion the entire time Harris brokered the deal with him in the alley behind the car lift bays. He's not bothered that his money will fund a drug binge. _Some people are just meant to be bottom feeders._ He straightens his tie and smooths his hands over his custom suit jacket, brushing the foul encounter with the addict off him like lint as he leaves the shop.

Sitting in his car behind darkly tinted windows, he turns the special shiny key over in his hands, leans back in his seat, closes his eyes and visualizes his plan for Friday night, the last evening of JR Ewing's life. He imagines JR's face when he realizes something is wrong. Will he be afraid? Will he cry out? Harris certainly hopes so.

A prickle of excitement travels up his neck and down other places. He chuckles at his own arousal. His mother will know he's behind this as soon as she hears what's happened. She'll be surprised. And proud, no matter how much she tries to hide it, that impossible bitch.

Harris laughs a high-pitched giggle now and revs his Ferrari, its license plates removed to protect his identity should the boy with the cocaine eyes have any second thoughts now.

"What's for lunch?" he says as he peels out of the alley, ready to reward himself for being so clever.

Halfway to the upscale Italian restaurant on the west end of Dallas, Harris can nearly taste the pricey Bordeaux wine he's going to drink. He can't wait to see the waiter's face when he orders the whole bottle. Little things like that give him so much pleasure.

"Big news about local Dallas business woman and gubernatorial hopeful Sue Ellen Ewing today," says the male talk radio host on Harris' station. He turns up the volume, certain Sue Ellen has announced her withdrawal from the race.

"Looks like the former socialite's bid for candidacy has gotten quite a boost," the man says.

"Quite a boost!" his female counterpart echoes.

"Yes indeed. Ewing's caught the attention of none other than the First Lady," the man says. "Sophia Harlow issued a statement endorsing Ewing for governor today, and it reads like this..."

Harris Ryland nearly bites through his tongue. A wave of heat passes over his face and his vision blurs for a second. He swerves across two lanes to the highway's shoulder, car horns blaring behind him, and skids to a stop. The radio host reads a short, sickening statement of praise and admiration for Sue Ellen Ewing from the First Lady of the United States.

"Well isn't that something!" the man says. "Looks like Ewing's determined to play with the big kids. She's definitely making an entrance, isn't she?" he says and laughs with his co-host.

Their voices become nothing but a buzz in the background to Harris. He shuts his eyes and tries to process this news. How could this possibly have happened?

"Goddammit! Goddamn you!" Harris yells at the top of his lungs in his car on the side of the road. "Stop! Just stop keeping on!" he screams, repeatedly bashing his fists on his steering wheel so hard that some knuckles begin to bleed.

"You miserable, foolish bitch!" he shouts, banging his fists on the wheel with every word. "Just stop! Stop! Just lay down and die like an old dog!" he yells with a horse voice.

Suddenly he sits up straight in his seat. He wipes the beads of sweat off his forehead and turns his BlueTooth on, dialing Aubrey's number as he shoves the earpiece in.

"Hello?" she says.

"Listen," he hisses. "I have a job for you and it can be your last if you do it right."

"My last?" Aubrey says, unbelieving. "As in, no more schemes….ever?"

"That's right," Harris says, regaining his calm.

"Why? What's happened?" she says.

Harris stays quiet.

"Alright, alright. No questions, I know," Aubrey says. She is so very weary of this nonsense, the orders, the stress, having to earn her father's approval over and over again with every job. _Have I ever earned it?_

"Well what is it? What's the job?" she asks flatly.

"Simple. Switch Sue Ellen Ewing's medication with placebo pills. That's it."

Aubrey stays quiet.

"She keeps the AIDS pills in her purse, doesn't she? That's what you told me," Harris says as casually as if he were asking about the weather.

"She doesn't have AIDS. She has HIV," Aubrey says, her voice shaking.

"Oh Christ, are you going to cry?" he says, disgusted.

After a moment, Aubrey says, "You know she could die, right?….Of course you do."

Harris shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "I see. You've gone soft, haven't you, baby girl? I suppose it was bound to happen; you've got your mother's genes to blame for that. Well. Let me help you with this. Let's talk about how you got to this moment, Aubrey," Harris says coolly.

"While you were busy screwing up your life for the past seven, eight years, I was even busier picking up after you, honey. Remember? Remember all that nonsense you used to enjoy? From the pills, to the cocaine to the heroin to the stealing to the fraud to support your filthy habits? Remember that?"

Tears roll down Aubrey's face and splash onto her jeans like big raindrops. She digs her nails into her wrist and twists until she draws a small drop of blood.

Harris whistles loudly, "That sure was life in the fast lane, wasn't it honey! All those arrests and crazy warrants for not appearing in court, good lord! That was exciting, dodging the police, wasn't it? And while you were playing tag with the law, I got a lot of visits from officers, didn't I? DIDN'T I?" Harris shouts.

"Yes," Aubrey whispers.

"That's right. I sure did. And the more you made fools out of them, the more they'd come around poking into my business, putting the squeeze on me to find you. And I can't have these people hovering around here, concerned with my affairs. So we made a deal, you and me, didn't we?"

"Yes."

"And your plea bargain wasn't so hard was it? Thirty days in jail and probation? Hell thousands of people would jump at that, Aubrey."

"That wasn't the hard part," she says with as much defiance as she can muster.

"Really? You know how difficult it was for me to get it? I put a judge on my payroll, girl. A judge. That was a very delicate arrangement. Just the asking could have gone terribly wrong for me, terribly wrong. But I put it all on the line for you. And you don't appreciate it. You don't appreciate me."

"The hard part," Aubrey continues, "is you bartering your love for me with schemes and lies and how well I can screw people over for you."

Harris sighs and rubs his hand over his face. "Aubrey, you're upset and obviously out of your drug addled mind so I'm going to pretend you did not say that."

"Well I did – "

"Shut up! Shut your mouth right now. You've been a burden since the day you were born. Parts of you are always breaking and I'm tired of fixing things. Aubrey Ann, you're weak, undisciplined, _emotional_ just like your mother. You need structure and boundaries. And that's what I give you. You're welcome, you ungrateful little bitch."

"Why Sue Ellen!" Aubrey yells into the phone so loud Harris holds his ear in pain. "Why her? What's she done to you that deserves this?" Aubrey says through angry sobs.

"Oh baby girl. You've lost it. You really have. I should just come collect you right now and check you in again, shouldn't I? Check you into that facility you disliked so very much."

"Why Sue Ellen?" Aubrey asks again.

"Because she said no," Harris says calmly. "And no one says no to me."

* * *

Bum sits unmoving across from JR in their booth at the Boot and Buckle Bar and Grill, studying his face for clues. As many years he and JR have conducted their business here at the B & B and Bum still holds his breath every time, worried JR won't be satisfied with his efforts.

JR slowly turns the pages of the softbound book in silence. His eyes widen and narrow at the color photos of women in various states of undress on each page.

"What in hell is this? Some kind of whore catalogue?" JR says.

Bum laughs through his mouthful of chili at JR's phrasing. An orange glob of sauce runs down his chin. He wipes it with the back of his hand and swallows the beans down.

"Yup. That's exactly what it is," Bum says.

JR stares at him for a moment, open-mouthed. He takes a long sip of his third bourbon and branch. "So, what, you pick the girl you want and place an order like you were buyin' feed supplies?"

Bum nods, scraping his spoon along the bowl for the last bite of chili. "Pretty much."

"Well I'll be damned," JR says and pages through the catalogue some more.

"Page 89," Bum says.

JR puts his glass down and quickly flips to page 89. A color photo of Ann fills the whole page. She straddles a stripper pole wearing nothing but a black cowboy hat and boots. She squats in the picture, legs apart, the silver pole between them. She grips it with both hands over her head and holds the loop of a black leather lasso in her mouth.

JR bangs his fist on the table. "Hoooo! Well who do we have here! It's Mrs. Bobby Ewing, number 89 in a trashy tramp catalogue."

"JR! Maybe settle down some? Folks are bound to hear you."

"No, no I just can't control myself on this Bum. I really can't," JR says. He rubs his hands together in celebration of what's to come.

"My little brother has no idea who he's brought into Southfork, into my Mama's house, rest in peace. Why, she's nothing but a slut in Ewing clothing."

Bum relaxes his shoulders, feeling confident JR is pleased. He stokes the fire. "There's a system here, with them pages," he says.

"Oh? And what might that be?" JR says, his tone quipped with sarcasm. He shuts the book with a loud flap.

"Well the girls are ranked, sort of. In reverse order," Bum says.

"Order of what?"

"Of, uh, what they're willing to do. You know. With the client. Such as, well - "

"Oh for chrissakes Bum, say what you mean. We're grown men here."

Bum sighs, his chubby face now pinkish red. "The freakier they are the closer they get to page 100. And the more expensive the, uh, purchase."

JR stretches his head forward like a turtle. "What did you say? Freakier?"

"That's right."

"Maybe I'm showin' my years here but freaky how, exactly?" JR asks, disgusted.

"Hell I don't know JR. I didn't ask for the particulars. All I know is the price goes up from page 1 to 100 and your sister-in-law there's on page 89."

JR flips to Ann's page again. He looks intently at her photo. Strange, the nudity doesn't command as much attention as those green eyes. He brings the photo closer and looks into them. He recognizes that flatness in her eyes as sorrow; he's seen it in his own reflection.

"This picture's not even that old," JR says after a few moments. "What would you say? Maybe 10 years back?"

"Yeah I'd say that."

"How'd you get this?" JR asks.

Bum smiles with pride. "I had a hunch and someone to work it for me, an old friend who does security out at the Diamond Ranch, the bordello outside Vegas. Flew out and saw him the other day and he put me in touch with a big older fella who was real squirrely about a large debt with the casinos that was, uh, coming due, shall we say. So I made a trade with him. Cost damn near every dollar you gave me to spend on this job to get you that there book. Didn't even have enough to buy me a steak and eggs breakfast next morning," he says with a crooked smile.

"Is that right?" JR says, tapping the book. "Well that's rough Bum, that truly is." JR laughs heartily.

"Yes sir. And being serious now, you be careful who sees it. Turn it over. That bar code on the back? That's like a goddamn fingerprint, no joke. Every one of these books gets its own code assigned to the client so they know exactly who that one there belongs to. Was the squirrely guy that told me that."

"This guy soft in the head or something?" JR says. "Why not just pull the back cover off of it?"

"Well I asked that too. He says it knows if it's been separated from the rest of the book."

JR raises an eyebrow in doubt.

"No foolin', JR. He says it's got some kind of connection with something inside the damn book. Hell if I know how that computer shit works. But he swore if that code comes off the book, he'd turn up dead. Guaranteed it. Beats me why they're so much fuss over keeping these girls secret. Prostitution's legal in Vegas."

JR smiles a tight lipped grin. "It's not the girls being protected. It's the clients. Just because something's legal don't mean it's always in good taste, follow me?"

"Well the clients sure as hell don't want to be found out so I reckon they'd keep these books close. So why all the fuss?" Bum says.

"These folks here are good business people. You got to plan for the unexpected. Things happen. Information changes hands. Before you know it, you got people looking into your private affairs. People you don't want around. People like you and me," JR says, laughs loudly and calls out another drink order to the waitress.

"Say Bum, you get a picture of this poor fool that sold you the book?"

"Nope. I got frisked before I met with him. Couldn't take my gun in, or my cell phone."

"Hhmm hmm," JR says. "Well I guess this ain't no back roads operation after all. Listen, I want you to go online and visit the webpage of the United States Congress. You look up every member and tell me if any of their pictures match your guy."

Bum hesitates a moment and then, "Hey JR? Maybe you oughta leave this alone. I mean you got what you wanted on Ann, so why go in deeper with this mess?"

JR smiles. "Because I can, Bum." He leans forward and his eyes lose their twinkle. "You're either in the game or you're not, son. There's no room for half-assed plays here. Something like this falls in your lap and you better use it, or be ready to. My past could catch up to me around the next corner. This little nugget of information is my time machine and I'm gonna make damn sure it's fully charged."


	32. Chapter 32

JR earmarks Ann's page 89 and tucks the book with the plain white cover under his arm. He takes one last look at himself in the dresser mirror. The feigned expression of concern on his face pulls his mouth downward but he can't dull the twinkle in his blue eyes. They dance and shine in anticipation of what's to come this evening. He turns out his bedroom light and heads downstairs to join Ann and Bobby in the den for a nightcap.

"Here's to your last night as Mrs. Bobby Ewing," JR says as he passes their bedroom down the hall.

"Evenin', Bobby," JR says, sitting in one of the dark brown leather wingback chairs, the book still safely tucked under his arm.

"How you doin', JR?" Bobby answers, noticing his brother didn't go straight to the bar. "You feeling alright? Want me to fix you a drink?"

"Thank you, Bobby. If you don't mind. Goddamn arthritis has my knee stiff as a board tonight," he says and rubs it, letting the white book drop into the fold of the chair below the armrest.

Bobby smiles while walking to the liquor cart. "Daddy had trouble with that same knee, remember?" he says.

A slight smile passes over JR's lips.

"He was hard pressed to admit it though, wasn't he," JR says. "Kept right on with the ranch hands until it swelled up like a football, Mama shaking her head at that stubbornness."

They share a laugh.

"Well Daddy believed in a hard day's work. Wore it like a badge of honor no matter how much ranching tore him up in the later years," Bobby says.

JR sits up in his chair. "Well that's right Bob. Daddy was an honorable man and I know he'd like to think he passed that on to us," he says, tapping the white book.

Bobby turns from mixing drinks, a puzzled look on his face.

"Where's Ann?" JR says.

"Out at the stables visiting Christopher's foal," Bobby says. "She sure does love those horses." A warm smile fills Bobby's face.

"Say Bob? She lived in Vegas before you met, right? Isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah. That's right. Why?"

"What did she do out there? For a living?"

"She was a model," Bobby says.

He hands JR a bourbon and branch and sits on the rawhide couch across from him, sipping on a whiskey. JR runs his fingers along the book's spine.

"You know, JR, it's strange. Ann's a beautiful girl. She's got legs that just don't quit, eyes as green as emeralds and a smile that takes my breath away, yet she's got no self confidence. None. It's like she doesn't see herself when she looks in the mirror," Bobby says and takes a drink. He clenches his teeth as the strong liquor bites him.

"Is that right?" JR says. "Well you'd be surprised. Sometimes it's the shy ones that - "

"No, no she's not shy. That's not it. She's just hard on herself. And she doesn't think she's pretty, especially next to Sue Ellen. She says Sue Ellen makes her feel insecure."

JR laughs.

"I'm serious, JR. It's giving her a lot of trouble. She told me. She was crying like a lost little girl."

"Well it's Sue Ellen, Bobby. I mean look at her. Ann doesn't stand a chance next to her, no woman can hold a candle to - " JR stops short as Bobby's expression cautions him.

"Ann's my wife, JR, and her happiness is important to me. I want to help her, I need to help her," Bobby says. "It's hard to explain, but she really needs me. She's so different from the others."

"I'll say," JR quips.

"She's a little broken," Bobby says, ignoring him. "And I'm not sure why exactly but it makes me love her even more. She brings out the protector in me, and I like that. Pam, April, they were strong women. Sure they needed me, but not like Ann does. She makes me feel like a super hero," he says and blushes. "I know that sounds silly but it's true. It really is." Bobby smiles.

JR sits back, watching his baby brother pour his heart out. Bobby sits leaning forward with his hands clasped on his knees. His expression is unmistakeable, JR's seen it so many times. He wants his big brother's approval. JR sighs and shoves the white book down between the cushion and armrest.

"'Course she does, Bobby," he says with a tight smile. "You are the hero in this family, surely you know that by now." JR laughs.

Bobby smiles at his brother's awkward attempt to compliment him. He stands and slaps JR on the shoulder. "I love you, brother," he says and heads out to the stables.

* * *

"Hello? Boys? I'm home!" Sue Ellen calls out as she walks through her front door, glad to finally be home from the campaign office. The dogs usually welcome her at the door, pawing and nudging to go outside. Not tonight. Bowie and Crockett come sauntering into the foyer, relaxed and unimpressed. Bowie yawns.

"Oh well excuse me, young man," she says, taking his head in her hands. "I don't believe you've ever greeted me with a yawn before. Maxine must have really worn you out!"

Sue Ellen tosses her bags on the entry table, kicks off her high heels with a content sigh and walks to the kitchen with a raging appetite. After her early lunch celebrating the First Lady's endorsement with Mark she hadn't had one moment to grab a bite in the last eight hours. She opens the large fridge to find nearly empty shelves and a note from the housekeeper taped to one of them.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ewing," it reads, "but the errand car wouldn't start. I thought about taking the bus but don't think I could manage with all the grocery bags. Sorry."

"Oh great," Sue Ellen says. "Will this day ever end?"

She walks out to the four-car garage and tries to start the sensible sedan her off-site housekeepers use for daily errands. It sputters and chugs before going silent. _Dead battery?_ She considers calling John Ross for help but thinks better of it, not wanting to experience his reaction. Her stomach growls loudly and she feels a wave of dizziness from hunger.

"Fine," she says, getting out of the car. "I'll deal with you later."

Sue Ellen heads back to the house, the dogs bounding along beside her. She opens a kitchen cupboard and something catches her eye on the counter. A large bag of coffee beans sit atop an envelop with her name on it. The only people with keys to her house besides the help are Ruby and John Ross. Ruby doesn't like coffee and the last time John Ross surprised her with something nice was, well, she can't even remember.

"Turquino Gourmet" the blue bag reads with "cafe de Cuba" above a picture of a steaming cup of dark coffee. Sue Ellen can smell the strong coffee through the sealed bag. She shakes it to release more aroma. The card with brightly colored butterflies contains a brief message of thanks for the new job from Maxine.

Sue Ellen smiles. "How thoughtful," she says. Bowie chuffs at the sound of her voice and sits on her feet. Sue Ellen pats his head.

"We've got ourselves a real nice girl tending to you boys," she says to the dogs. Bowie licks her calf.

She picks up her cell and hesitates a moment before dialing Maxine's phone number. She picks up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Maxine, hi, it's Sue Ellen Ewing."

"Oh, hey Sue Ellen, how you doin? The dogs alright?"

"Fine, yes they're just fine. Tired out! I just want to thank you so much for the coffee. Smells delicious."

"My pleasure!" Maxine says. "I really do thank you for the job. I had a nice visit with Miss Ruby today. You got yourself a firecracker neighbor lady there."

Sue Ellen laughs. "Isn't that the truth. So….this coffee….it's Cuban?" she says, prolonging the conversation. "Are you Cuban?"

"Yup. One hundred percent. You ever had Cuban coffee?"

"No."

"Well you better ease into it then. It's meant to be sipped from very small cups, almost like espresso-sized cups. You fill a regular mug with that dark brew and you could have yourself a heart attack, or at least a sleepless night," Maxine says.

They both laugh.

"Thanks for the warning," Sue Ellen says. "Uh…Maxine…..have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No. I was just about to fix me somethin'. Why?"

"Well I'm starving and I'm out of groceries so….would you like to grab a bite with me?" Sue Ellen says tentatively.

Maxine winces at the loneliness in Sue Ellen's voice. She looks at the marinaded fish she's already set in foil on the broiler in her kitchen. "Sure. Yeah, okay. But you'll have to pick me up. My car lights are broke," she says.

"Great!" Sue Ellen says, her smile coming through the phone. "Where do you live?"

Maxine gives her directions. "Lock your car doors and don't roll down your winda for no one, you hear? No matter what they're trying to ask you, even if they look like a grandmama," she says. "Not unless you wanna get jacked out your fancy car."

"Jacked?" Sue Ellen asks.

Maxine shakes her head. "Do not stop your vehicle or roll down your window in my unsafe neighborhood unless you want your expensive car to be stolen from you."

Sue Ellen laughs. "Well if I don't arrive in 20 minutes, search my route," she says.

They hang up. Maxine chuckles and looks at her mother's picture on the shelf.

"Can you believe this, Mama?" she says. "A millionaire politician lady is picking me up for dinner. Ain't that somethin'? What do we have in common?"

Her mother's big brown eyes look back at her and Maxine suddenly hears the mantra from her childhood. _Go where you're needed and you'll never be lost_, her mother's voice says in her memory. A tear surprises Maxine at the corner of her eye. She quickly wipes it away, puts the fish back in the refrigerator and sits by her window looking out for Sue Ellen.

* * *

"What kind of food do they serve here?" Sue Ellen asks pulling into the parking lot of The Hot Potato Lounge hidden at the end of the dark street.

"The good kind," Maxine says, smiling wide. Sue Ellen's apprehension is obvious and Maxine is touched that she's taking her suggestion anyway.

The small lot is already full of cars, not an empty parking spot in sight.

"Don't worry," Maxine says. "Leonel is the valet tonight and he's got us. He'll keep your fancy car safe, I promise. This is more of a club than a restaurant and people stay for hours."

Sue Ellen raises an eyebrow. "What are you getting me into? I'm not looking to uh, party, or whatever you young people call it these days."

Maxine howls with laughter just as Leonel opens her door.

"Evenin' Maxi," he says, eyeing Sue Ellen's sleek Porsche. "What's so funny, girl?"

"My new friend here's a real kick," Maxine says between laughs. "Leo, meet Sue Ellen."

The dark, tall man with an accent Sue Ellen can't place offers his hand and kisses hers when she gives it.

"Pleasure, pretty lady," he says with a wink and a tip of his light brown bowler hat.

"She's never been to the 'Tater," Maxine says as she and Sue Ellen exit the car.

"What?" Leonel says. "You tourist, Miss Sue Ellen?"

"No, I live in Dallas." Sue Ellen finds this funnier than she thinks she should but it's been ages since she has been somewhere local and not been recognized. She's delighted.

"Well, about time you come around then. Welcome. You in good hands with Maxi," he says and gives Maxine a kiss on the cheek.

Maxine leads the way past a big male bouncer with tattoos on his bald head. He waves them through with a smile to Maxine. Sue Ellen spots a skeleton hand holding an ace of spades card tattooed on the left side of his neck and wonders what she is doing at this type of place. Maybe she was wrong about Maxine.

Down the dark hallway, Sue Ellen feels for her cell phone in her purse and checks the battery life, just in case she needs to call for help. _Who will I call?_ She opens her contacts and presses Mark's name, leaving the entry open for quick access.

"What?" Maxine says, turned around to her. "Are you gonna be on your phone all night?"

"Who?….What? No. No of course not. I was just…..checking…."

"Maxine laughs softly. "I reckon you never been to a jazz supper club before?" Sue Ellen nods no. "Well they're all dark, small, cramped and have red velvet in some fashion, be it curtains, booths or both. But these places are real special. They got heart and soul, and you'll leave with more than you came. You watch, Sue Ellen, you'll love this place."

Sue Ellen manages a tight smile that makes Maxine laugh loudly again.

"Look, you trusted me with your dog babies, didn't you? This here's only dinner," Maxine says and holds out her hand.

Sue Ellen takes it and they continue down the dim hall lined with lights shaped like candles on the walls. They flicker and pulse fake blue flames. Framed black and white photos of singers wearing outfits from long ago line the walls. Sue Ellen thinks one is Billie Holiday.

They pass under an archway with red velvet curtains draped on either side. Sue Ellen's eyes take a minute to adjust to the reddish hue of the low-lit room. There are no windows. The walls are covered with more pictures of singers and bands. Every table has a small red lamp on it and most seats are occupied by patrons clinking silverware against plates as they eat. Savory aromas of beef, braised pork and other spices waft in the air. Ice cubes rattle in cocktail shakers at the small bar off to the side.

A woman begins singing over the din of conversation and the room grows quiet. The spotlight fixes center stage on an older buxom lady with long silver hair in soft curls. She wears a tight white sparkly halter dress and high silver heels. Her long red fingernails curve over the vintage square microphone and the first line of "Summertime" glides out of the singer in a voice so smooth and low it gives Sue Ellen chills. She watches the woman and starts swaying, to Maxine's delight. The small band plays softly; horns blowing tenderly as if aware they are the singer's guests. The sparkly lady carries this song on her own.

"Maxi! Girl how you been?" says the young hostess, hugging her.

"I been good, and I been _workin'_," Maxine says with a big smile. "Tootie, this here's my friend, Sue Ellen, and my new boss.

The girl flashes a bright white smile and shakes Sue Ellen's hand.

"Tootie?" Sue Ellen says to Maxine.

"That's right," Maxine says, laughing. "Everybody's got a nickname here, just like a family."

Tootie shows the ladies to a small booth on the side of the stage.

"Thanks baby," Maxine says to the girl. "She's a little uptight," she whispers in her ear about Sue Ellen.

"No, really?" Tootie says, laughs and pats Maxine's hand. "Y'all enjoy," she says, leaving menus.

"Thank you!" Maxine calls after her.

A waiter wearing a light blue guayabera shirt brings Maxine a tall chilled mojito muddled nicely with fresh mint leaves. He stands by to take Sue Ellen's drink order.

"Give us a sec, okay Joaquin?" Maxine says to him. He smiles and leaves.

"You okay with this?" Maxine asks her, pointing to the cocktail. "I heard your speech on TV the other day. I know you used to hit the bottle."

Sue Ellen laughs at the glorious bluntness. "I'm fine with it," she says. "In fact I'm better when people don't tip toe around it. I don't."

"Hey it is what it is," Maxine says, shrugging her shoulders. "We all got our vices."

"Oh? What's yours?" Sue Ellen says.

"Revenge," Maxine says.

"What can I bring you to drink, madam?" the waiter asks Sue Ellen who hangs on Maxine's words.

"Tonic and lime," she says, shooing him away.

"Revenge? I like the sound of that. On whom?"

Maxine waves her hand in the air. "Long story."

"Well I'm not going anywhere. You said once people come here they stay for hours, remember?" Sue Ellen says. "What happened? Someone stole a client from you?"

Maxine sighs and looks down at her hands. "Someone hurt my mother and I want them to pay for it."

Sue Ellen's expression drops. "Who?"

"I don't know, exactly."

"Well, is she alright now?"

"Don't know that either."

"Why not? Where is she?"

"The last time I saw her she was crying on the seashore but trying to smile, blowing me kisses under the stars in the middle of the night as I floated away with a bunch of Cubans on a coyote's raft to Miami."

Tears flow down Maxine's face but she doesn't make a sound. Sue Ellen's mouth falls open and she struggles for the right words.

"When.…" is all she manages to say.

"Eleven years ago. I was 13."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Sue Ellen says in a whispery voice on the edge of breaking. "But, why….how….couldn't she come with you?"

Maxine smiles at Sue Ellen's innocent question. How can she possibly understand a woman so desperate to give her only child a better life that she sent her adrift on the ocean with strangers on a raft no bigger than a king sized mattress?

"Don't think bad of her," Maxine says. "She saved my entire childhood to pay the coyote for my passage and it would have taken her another 13 years to pay for herself."

Sue Ellen has trouble processing this. "Thirteen years? _Years?_ How much did it cost?"

Maxine looks away briefly and then squarely says, "Three thousand dollars."

"Well…I have..….Maxine, where is she now? What can we do to bring her to you?"

Maxine touches Sue Ellen's hand. "Thank you, you're a kind woman, Sue Ellen," she says, her chin trembling. "But I don't know where she is. She's gone."

Maxine's hazel eyes become steely gray and the tears stop as her face tightens with anger.

"How do you mean, _gone?_" Sue Ellen asks.

"Cuba is a different place from here in every way," Maxine says. "You just can't do certain things without putting yourself, and your family, in danger."

"Like what things, exactly?"

"Like leave," Maxine says. "My Mother helped me leave and that is a punishable offense. She betrayed the government and they came to get her. Neighbors saw them take her. People just disappear over there. They don't say where they take them."

The room suddenly erupts in applause. The singer in the white dress has finished her set and she waves goodnight as she exits the stage, kissing all the band members on her way down. A man in a yellow suit takes the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, another round of applause for Eloise, please!" he says.

The audience cheers and claps. Eloise waves from the bar and holds her drink in the air.

"Now, we have a special visitor in the audience tonight! A good friend we haven't seen a while is here. Please join me in asking Maxi to take the stage. Maxi? Will you please?" he says.

The spotlight falls on Maxine. The audience claps. Sue Ellen's eyes grow wide looking at Maxine. What horrible timing, but she takes a deep breath, smiles, squeezes Sue Ellen's hand and rises. The crowd cheers louder.

As she walks up the stage steps, the host says, "Let's give a warm Hot Potato welcome to our lovely Maxine Mosqueda!" Applause grows, along with some whistles.

Maxine speaks to the bandleader and takes her place at the microphone. The stage lights dim and the little red shades on the table lamps glow again. At the first few chords of the song, the audience claps.

Maxine sings Etta James' heartbreaker "I Would Rather Go Blind" so beautifully that Sue Ellen closes her eyes against the tears. The girl looks off into the distance as she performs and Sue Ellen wonders who she's singing to. Next the band hits a latin beat and Maxine covers "Oye Como Va" with so much enthusiasm, there's no more trace of sadness on her.

She sings two more songs to the audience's delight and when she comes back to the table, people stand and clap for her. Sue Ellen hugs her and Maxine holds on tight.

"I feel better," she says. "My Mama taught me to sing. And I know she can hear me."

"Of course she can," Sue Ellen says, determined not to cry again.

They order dinner and the conversation flows easily, though no more talk of tragedy for the evening. When the waiter brings the check, the host comes over and takes it, putting it on the house.

Sue Ellen sighs contently. A young man sings a Sammy Davis JR medley on stage and she claps at each song transition.

Sue Ellen looks at Maxine with gratitude. "Well you were right, young lady, I did enjoy myself. Very much. It's been a lovely evening."

Maxine smiles. "Music's got magical powers," she says.

Sue Ellen takes another long look around the lively club. It seems to pulse with a heartbeat. The host announces the last singer of the evening and Sue Ellen glances at her watch.

"Oh, I think we better head home," she says. "I've got to figure out what's wrong with my help's car before they come back tomorrow morning."

"Your help's car?" Maxine says. "You got a car just for the help?"

"Well yes," Sue Ellen says. "For errands, things like that. I can't expect them to use their own car. They don't even have cars. They take the bus over, I think. Or someone drops them."

"Like what kind of errands?" Maxine asks, amazed.

"Oh lots of things. Things I can't get to myself. Like grocery shopping, for example."

"You don't shop for your own food?"

"I don't have time," Sue Ellen says a bit defensively.

"We all got the same hours in a day. I'd hate someone else getting my food. I love grocery shopping. It's like being in a candy store. Don't you cook?" Maxine asks.

"Sometimes," Sue Ellen lies.

Maxine laughs. "Well, what's wrong with the help car anyway?"

"I'm not sure. It won't start. I think it's the battery."

"I bet John Ross would know. Have him look at it for you."

Sue Ellen starts searching for her keys in her big designer purse. "Shall we go?" she says, standing up.

Maxine remains seated. "You don't want to ask him to help you. Why not?"

Sue Ellen doesn't answer.

"Children should help their parents," Maxine says. "Raise your expectations, Sue Ellen. He might just meet them."

"He's very busy, you don't understand – "

"Yes I do. And so do you. Ask him for help, and if he refuses let him know he let you down. Call him on that cell you hung onto for dear life when we first got here," Maxine says and laughs heartily.

"If he doesn't come," Maxine continues, "I'll look at the car and go with you to get a new battery tonight. No big thing."

"You know about cars, too?" Sue Ellen says.

"Don't tell him I said that when you ask him to come," Maxine replies. "Now go on, call him."

Sue Ellen purses her lips. She takes a long sip of tonic water and dials John Ross on her cell. Maxine already knows the outcome before Sue Ellen hangs up because she is grinning big.

"He's coming!" she says, ending the call.

"Of course he is. He's your son," Maxine says. "Let's go."

Sue Ellen links arms with Maxine as they leave the club and the valet brings her car around.

"And Miss Sue Ellen? Will we see you again?" Leonel asks, opening her door.

"Oh yes, I hope so," she says and tips him generously.

As they drive off, Sue Ellen looks over at Maxine, "Come back with me for a little while? We can have some of your coffee…and you can say hello to John Ross."

"Okay," Maxine says, surprising herself.


	33. Chapter 33

_**Warning:**__ This chapter contains some strong language and adult-themed violence._

* * *

Sue Ellen waves at John Ross as her back gate slowly opens. He is already working under the hood of the car. She blows him a kiss when he waves back and he does a double take at Maxine in the passenger seat.

"Hey Mama," he says, opening her door.

"Hi honey, thanks for doing this." Sue Ellen brushes the hair out of his eyes. "You remember Maxine, don't you?" she asks with a sly grin.

John Ross nods, puzzled. "So….you here to take the dogs out again?" he says.

"Nope," Maxine says.

The moonlight makes her big silver hoop earrings glow against her dark skin.

"Need any help?" she asks, nodding at the car in the garage.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Let me connect the new battery and you start it up for me."

Sue Ellen tries to stifle a smile that feels much too wide to share.

"How much do I owe you for the battery, John Ross?" she asks.

"Eighty bucks should cover it," he says.

"I'll leave it on the table for you," Sue Ellen says. "Maxine, I'm going to put the coffee on. You join us for a cup, too, John Ross. She brought special coffee from Cuba," Sue Ellen says and walks to the house, finally able to let that smile escape when her back is turned.

"You cheap ass fool, are you serious?" Maxine says to John Ross when Sue Ellen is out of range.

"What? What did I do now?"

"You gonna make your Mama pay for that damn battery? Really?"

John Ross looks astonished. "Well it's her car."

"Oh, okay. I see how it is. Everybody do for themselves around here, huh?"

John Ross' expression goes from surprise to annoyance.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he says.

"Having coffee with your Mama."

"Why?"

"Because I like her. And she invited me."

"You like her or you like her money?"

Maxine puts hands on hips and stops walking. She faces John Ross. "What did you say?"

"Why are you hangin' around my Mama? You're a third her age and she only just met you. What do you want from her?"

Maxine stares at John Ross for a good 10 seconds, then breaks into a smile. "You are protective of her after all, aren't you?"

"Yeah I guess you could say that. Look, you come around an oil family out of nowhere and you're gonna get some questions," John Ross says. "At least from me you are."

"Fair enough," Maxine says. "She called me to have dinner tonight and I went because I like her." Maxine smiles again. "We're from different planets, me and your Mama, but we get each other all the same. And I think that's cool."

John Ross realizes he is smiling too. "Dinner?" he says. "Where?"

"The Hot Potato."

"The what?"

"It's a supper club out by me. Jazz. Singing. You know."

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"_My_ mother?"

"Yup. Come on," Maxine says. "Let me start this car and get inside for that coffee. I got to go soon."

She sits in the driver seat leaving John Ross still marveling at the idea of Sue Ellen at The Hot Potato. He shakes his head and connects the battery. The car chugs once and starts, its engine humming softly.

"It's nice you checkin' me for your Mama's sake," Maxine says on their way into the house. "You ain't got to worry. I don't want her money. And I sure as hell wouldn't make her pay for no battery, neither," she says as they enter the kitchen filled with the strongest coffee aroma John Ross has ever smelled.

"Damn!" he says. "What kind of witch's brew you cookin' in here Mama?"

Sue Ellen laughs and pours them all small cups of coffee. Maxine cautions them on proper consumption and they enjoy easy conversation for about 30 minutes until the clock strikes 11.

"Well y'all, I got to get back," Maxine says. They all stand and she gives Sue Ellen a tight two-armed hug.

"I'll take you home," John Ross says.

"Oh, are you sure, John Ross?" Sue Ellen says.

"Yeah he's sure," says Maxine.

Though embarrassed, John Ross laughs. He gets up from the table and pushes the $80 back to Sue Ellen.

"Goodnight, Mama," he says and kisses her on the cheek.

* * *

In the car parked in front of Maxine's apartment, John Ross opens his glove box and hands her a plastic pet shop bag.

"Here," he says.

She takes it without hesitation and opens it hastily. John Ross smiles at her excitement. She pulls out a pink leather tandem leash studded with rhinestones.

"What the hell!" she says, laughing. "You know your Mama's dogs are boys, right? Why did you get me such a pretty leash?"

"I guess I was thinking of you when I bought it," John Ross says.

* * *

Aubrey laughs a shrill giggle at this light Thursday morning highway traffic to the campaign office. The day she most wants to delay arriving at work seems her fastest commute ever, naturally. She slows her car down and giggles some more, spooking herself with the crazy cackling sound. Is she losing it again? She tucks her hair behind her ear. What does it matter anyway?

A disco song on the radio station instantly transports her to Uncle Jobe's wedding two decades ago. Aubrey is seven and trying to dance The Hustle with her dad. Harris patiently shows her the steps over and over again in a corner of the dance floor, laughing when she steps on his feet. He picks her up and sets her on his shoulders, gently holding her arms out like the wings of a baby bird. She kisses the top of her Daddy's head, bald even back then.

"Harris!" yells her grandmother Judith across the crowd and her dad plucks little Aubrey from her perch with enough velocity to make her gasp.

Aubrey's cell phone ringing snaps her back to present just in time to see the red brake lights right in front of her. She skids to a stop, disoriented at the sudden traffic jam. The car behind slams into her bumper with a thud and loud screeches of scraping metal. The man in her rearview mirror waves his arms around, his face twisted with anger.

She barely flinches. She smooths her hair and turns off the radio while merging over to the highway's shoulder. The angry man in the big truck follows close behind. Before getting out, Aubrey applies fresh red lipstick.

"WHAT IN THE HELL?" she hears him shout through her closed window. He's a young man, newly adult she estimates. He wears a faded Rolling Stones tour shirt, board shorts and flip flops. Aubrey smiles at him before getting out of her car. He crinkles his brow, surprised at her demeanor.

"Good morning," she says and winks.

"Uh, yeah okay. Um what the hell, miss?" the man child says, waving only one hand in the air now. "You stopped way short. I couldn't help but hit you."

He looks at her caved in bumper and broken tail light. Her license plate dangles by one screw. His elevated truck is undamaged.

"Right," Aubrey says, hands on her shapely hips. Again she smiles at him, batting the long lashes over her green eyes.

He looks around, unsure how to respond. His eyes briefly but definitely travel down Aubrey's tight moss green sweater to her short black skirt and down her fishnetted legs to the tips of her high-heeled black boots.

"Well, um…Are you alright?" he asks in a softer voice.

Aubrey covers her mouth then claps in delight.

"You really want to know, don't you?" she says.

"What?"

"If I'm okay. You truly want to know. Don't you?"

"Yeah? Sure…well…..is something wrong? Like besides the bumper maybe?" he asks nodding at Aubrey's damaged car. "You're acting kinda weird. You know. For the circumstances."

Aubrey laughs that crazy cackle again. The young man jumps. She wishes she hadn't done that. She marches right up and kisses him hard on the mouth, throwing both arms around his neck. She feels him pull away and it makes her want to cry. She releases him looking stunned and confused with her red lipstick smeared across his mouth.

"Don't worry about my car," she says, licking the taste of him from her lips. "It makes no difference to me."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I'm leaving," she says, "on a midnight train to Georgia."

The boy's expression turns from curiosity to an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare when Aubrey quotes the Gladys Knight song. He starts slowly backing away from her, quickly taking a cell phone picture of her bumper and license plate for good measure.

"Are you high or something?" he yells from the safety of his truck door. "Maybe you shouldn't drive right now. Can I call someone for you?"

_Again with the concern._ Aubrey drops to her knees and screams at the sky, pounding her fists on the gravel.

"FUCK YOU!" she screams through sobs and gasps for air.

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL?" the man yells, starting his truck. "You're messed up, girl. You better not come at me with some fuckin' law suit!" he shouts before merging back onto the highway.

Aubrey slowly rocks herself sitting on her knees on the hot pavement beside the car tire facing away from traffic.

"I wasn't talking to you," she whispers, watching the Rolling Stones boy disappear down the road. "Come back," she says softly, tears stinging her eyes. "Come back for me please."

A ladybug slowly crawls across the pavement near her tire. She picks it up carefully and places it safely on a plant in the roadside brush.

* * *

Aubrey sits quietly in her car in the building's parking garage. She breathes slowly now in the cool dark space, the turmoil of the highway incident neatly tucked away in a far corner of her selective memory. Her hands folded in her lap, a slight tremor the only clue of the chaos knocking at the door of her mind.

"Go away," she says firmly. "Please," she whispers.

The spooky giggle bursts out of her mouth and startles her. That's a good sign, isn't it? That she realizes she might be slipping away again? Truly mad people think they're fine. Don't they?

She brushes a few pieces of gravel off the stockings over her knees. The sharp little rocks scrape her skin, making her smile. There. See? Everything's in order; she feels pain, the sensation that was missing during the heroin haze her father reminded her of on the phone last night.

The phone. She pulls her cell out of her bag to see who called right before the crash. Harris. Harris did. Aubrey smiles a big beautiful grin at the phone as tears well in her eyes. He made her brake. Her father saved her life again. Of course he loves her. She hates herself for doubting him. He's right. She's ungrateful and burdensome.

She dials him back to apologize.

"Aubrey," he says on the first ring.

"Daddy?" she says in a shaky voice.

Harris sits up straight in his desk chair at Ryland Transportation, not liking the fright he hears on the other end of the phone. _We're not going back there again, are we? Not now._

"Aubrey, honey, where are you?" he says in his most soothing tone.

Aubrey presses the phone closer to her ear.

"Daddy, I'm sorry…Dad?"

Harris rolls his eyes. "I'm here baby girl. Now where are you?"

He tries with all his might to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"In the car," she says.

Her right hand moves to her hair and starts pulling it. She twists a shiny black chunk out and watches it fall to the floorboard.

"Okay, good. You're in the car…and where's the car? Aubrey? At work, right? You're at work by now, aren't you honey?"

Oh. No. She cast her towline to the wrong person. Aubrey feels a deep sinking sensation. It pulls the smile off her face from the inside out.

"Yes. Work. I'm at work," she says flatly.

"Good. Good! That's right honey," Harris says with too much enthusiasm.

He clears his throat as if to start over. "And you're going to do our special job today, right baby?" he says calmly, bending a paper clip in half until it snaps.

"Do you remember dancing at Jobe's wedding?" Aubrey asks, stifling a sob.

"What?"

"Uncle Jobe's wedding. Do you remember dancing with me? I was seven."

Harris pauses, not wanting to board the crazy train. _Why can't she be more like me?_

"Yes, yes honey of course I do," he says, rubbing his hand across his face and over his head.

"Now, let's think about the task at hand for a minute," he says carefully. "When are you going to switch Sue Ellen's pills?"

He holds his breath. Silence.

Aubrey brings her knees up to her chest in the seat of her car, lying on her side in a tight ball against the backrest.

"What was the song, Dad?"

"The song?"

"That we danced to? AT THE WEDDING?"

Harris clenches his jaw, realizing the importance of this answer.

"Honey, that was what, 15, 20 years ago, wasn't it? I don't know exactly – "

"What's my favorite color?" she asks.

No response.

"When's my birthday?" Aubrey says. She laughs wildly now.

"Aubrey! Goddammit! What's the matter with you?" Harris says. "Are you wasted? If you are you're going right back to - "

"Goodbye Harris," Aubrey says, hanging up and turning off the phone.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Mark!" Aubrey says rounding the partition by her cubicle.

Mark looks up in disbelief, watching Aubrey glide into her desk chair. Black hair, black clothes, black boots with just a pop of green from _that sweater_. She never looked more like a cat than today. Mark hopes she doesn't have nine lives, strange creature.

"Morning?" he says cautiously. "I think that's the first time you've ever said that to me. Are you okay?"

He laughs nervously. She looks over and waves at him. His eyes widen.

"Um, Aubrey? Uh…seriously, are you alright? You've got, I think, mascara? Or something, running down….." he motions down his cheeks with his fingers.

Aubrey laughs loudly. "Oh! You don't miss a thing, do you?" she says and wipes her face with the back of her hand, starting to cry again.

Mark stands up, unsure what to do. He grabs a box of tissue, then puts it back down. Aubrey now softly giggles. Mark removes an envelop from his briefcase, slowly walks out of his office and tip toes past Aubrey's desk trying not to be seen, as absurd as that is. He turns the corner and sprints down the hall to Sue Ellen's office.

"Something's wrong with Aubrey," he says, out of breath.

Sue Ellen looks up from signing papers.

"What? With Aubrey? What's the matter? Is she here?"

"Yeah she's here but she looks a mess."

"A mess how?"

"Well like she's been crying, or fighting maybe. And she sounds…_crazy_," Mark whispers that word, glancing back at the door. "She's kind of crying but laughing too."

Sue Ellen stands up.

"Wait," Mark says. "Before you go to her, I want to show you something."

He opens the envelope and removes the copy he made of the altered photo of Aubrey and her 'husband' from her desk last week.

"Look," he says. "See her nails? The hands are different colors."

"What are you doing with this picture?" Sue Ellen says.

"I got it from her desk. I made a copy and –"

"Her desk? Mark! You're snooping around her things?"

"Yes but – "

"No. No buts – "

"Sue Ellen! You don't understand. She's up to something, I'm sure of it – "

"We don't do that in this office, in _my_ office. We don't spy on each other, Mark. Whatever you think you're on to, drop it. Aubrey is part of our team and she has a right to privacy, same as everyone else here."

Mark sighs in total frustration. Desperate, he says, "She was involved in your DUI stop."

"What? Why? What proof do you have?"

"I don't. But – "

"Stop right there. You don't? End of story."

"But Harris Ryland was behind it, you said so yourself. And she kept your calendar that week. She must have told him where you'd be and when. Who else knew that?"

"That's a huge leap, Mark. How do you connect Aubrey and Harris? And why would she want to do that to me?"

"I don't have all the answers yet. But I'm telling you I'm right. I just know it. And maybe today's a good time to ask her about it since she's upset. Maybe she's angry with him. With Harris," he says, not believing he's taking this chance.

Sue Ellen sighs. "I don't know what's going on with you two, but you haven't gotten along since day one."

Mark's shoulders drop.

Sue Ellen takes the photo from Mark and looks closely. She gives it back to him with something short of an eye roll but very close to it.

"Where is she?" she says.

"At her desk," Mark says with renewed hope. "Don't tell her what I said, Sue Ellen. You've got to just lay it on her point blank."

"Enough," Sue Ellen says. Her eyes say even more and Mark looks down.

Sue Ellen pauses briefly at the corner divider of Aubrey's cubicle, listening. Nothing. She continues around to the desk.

"Hi Aubrey," she says.

Aubrey looks up with bright eyes, not a trace of running make-up.

"Morning, Sue Ellen! Wow how exciting about the First Lady's endorsement yesterday. I heard on the news. What a surprise," Aubrey says with a hint of sarcasm, or hurt? Sue Ellen's unsure which.

"Yes, it was a surprise, a terrific one. I, uh, I should have sent an email to the whole staff, shouldn't I? I'm sorry you found out from the media. That wasn't right," Sue Ellen says with such sincerity Aubrey is moved to hug her.

She holds on tight to this lovely, honest, brave woman she wishes was her own mother.

"Congratulations," Aubrey manages to say.

"My goodness, thank you honey," Sue Ellen says, stroking Aubrey's hair. "Look at me, are you alright?"

"Me? Yes, of course, why?" Aubrey says, pulling away.

"Oh you just seem….different….this morning, that's all," Sue Ellen says.

Aubrey shrugs her shoulders. "I might be a little pre-occupied," she says, nearly choking on the understatement.

"Tell you what," Sue Ellen says. "I think we could both use a break. Why don't we have lunch together today?"

Aubrey bites her lip hard. She was not prepared for this display of kindness in the face of what she's got to do.

"Aubrey?"

"Oh, thank you…..so much….but I couldn't possibly…..I just can't today, I'm sorry, but I owe someone a….favor," Aubrey says, never looking up.

"What can't possibly wait for just an hour or so?" Sue Ellen says, trying to make eye contact.

Aubrey looks straight into Sue Ellen's eyes with such intensity she's unsettled.

"I have to do something today that I don't want to do," Aubrey says matter of factly. "But I have no choice. None."

"We always have a choice, Aubrey. What happens if you don't do it, this thing?"

"I'll be locked away forever," Aubrey says in all seriousness.

Sue Ellen laughs. "Really? Well forever is a long time. I guess you better do it then," she winks. "How about tomorrow for lunch instead?"

Aubrey's eyes glisten and for a second Sue Ellen thinks the girl might cry but she says, "Yes! Tomorrow!" so happily she dismisses the thought.

"Great," Sue Ellen says. "Put it on my calendar."

"Sue Ellen?" Aubrey says as Sue Ellen turns to go.

"Yes?"

"When's your son's birthday?"

"John Ross? Oh. September 21st," Sue Ellen says with a smile, "_1979_," she adds with emphasis. _Where's the time gone? _ "Why?"

Aubrey looks down. "I just want to put it on your calendar," she says quietly.

* * *

Ten minutes into Sue Ellen's afternoon briefing with Mark in the conference room, Aubrey takes Sue Ellen's purse off the coat rack by her office door and feels around inside for the pill bottle while watching for anyone passing by. Within seconds she finds it in a side pocket. With shaky hands she empties the Atripla pills into a plastic baggie and replaces them with identical looking placebos Harris provided. She twists the cap back on, drops the bottle in the purse and is about to exit the office when a stack of campaign bumper stickers on Sue Ellen's desk catches her eye. Aubrey takes one and walks out less than five minutes after entering.

Back at her desk, Aubrey sits on her trembling, sweaty hands, ashamed at the sense of relief she feels but relieved all the same. It's done. Now looking around her desk, she adjusts the sparse items just so. She quickly walks across to Mark's desk and shoves a green file folder in between his manila ones in the drawer.

She gathers her bag and turns her phone back on, nine missed calls from Harris. She doesn't bother looking at the texts. What does it matter now?

Riding the elevator down four floors to the lobby, she takes note it does not stop once and is pleased by this. _This is the right decision. Win/win, as they say._

Outside, Aubrey pauses a moment and turns her face up to the sunshine, enjoying the warmth on her skin with her eyes closed. Her phone vibrates in her hand. _No rest for the wicked._ Aubrey doesn't want to be wicked anymore.

In the parking garage, the surveillance camera captures Aubrey placing the "Ewing 2013" campaign sticker on her car's dented bumper. She runs her hand over it repeatedly, making sure it's firmly affixed.

"I'm sorry," she says softly.

About 10 miles down the highway, Aubrey coasts along just above the speed limit. Hardly any traffic, thankfully. She looks over at the car in the lane next to her and waves to the woman driver.

"Bye," she says.

The sign for the highway interchange passes overhead. Eying between the road and her phone, she opens her music application, turns the volume up all the way and presses play. Van McCoy and the Soul City Symphony sing "The Hustle" and the tears come. She wipes her eyes defiantly, trying to see the road clearly. No room for mistakes here.

She presses the gas pedal all the way down and takes the upward curve at nearly 100 miles per hour. She feels the exact moment her tires lose contact with the road and it's wonderful to be flying free. Gliding through the air, her car clears the guardrail completely, sailing over the edge of the overpass cliff and into the clear blue sky. She doesn't hear a sound but the song playing on her phone. The car starts diving downward nose first and Aubrey closes her eyes. She is on her Daddy's shoulders again and his happy laugh is the last thing she hears.


	34. Chapter 34

_Author's Note: Anyone who's gone through a police notification after losing someone may not wish to read this chapter if it might stir up bad memories. Thank you to continuing and new readers and big thanks in flashing lights for the thoughtful reviews! Also this chapter is dependent on previous chapter 33 to make sense. ~ Corina_

* * *

Two police officers approach Susana's desk.

"Afternoon, officers," she says, curious. "May I help you?"

"Who's in charge here, miss?" says the taller one. "Of the employees?"

"Oh, well, we have a campaign manager but ultimately Mrs. Ewing's the boss. Sue Ellen Ewing."

"Is that the Ewing 2013 one?" says the other officer.

"Yes, sir!" Susana says. "You know she's very supportive of law enforcement, right? And border control - "

"We need to speak to her. Right away."

"I think she's still in afternoon briefing - "

"Get her out. Please."

Susana's smile fades. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so, miss."

"What? What's happened? Is it her son? Is it John Ross?"

"We'd rather speak directly to Mrs. Ewing, if you please. The quicker you get her, the faster you'll know."

Susana stands frozen for a minute, then snaps to action heading directly for the conference room. She turns the corner sharply and glances at Aubrey's empty desk, shaking her head. _That girl never tells me she's stepping out._

"Excuse me," she says, interrupting Sue Ellen and Mark's conversation.

Sue Ellen turns around in her seat. "Susana? You look worried. What's wrong?"

Mark stands up.

"Um…..I'm sorry but the police are here," she says breathing fast, red blotches forming on her neck. "They want to speak to you, Sue Ellen," Susana shifts her nervous eyes to Mark.

"Police?" Sue Ellen says. "What…what's happened?" she says getting up so fast she knocks her chair over.

"They won't tell me," Susana says in a shaky voice.

Mark rights the chair.

"You stay here, stay right here," he says. "I'll bring them back."

Susana pokes her head out the door watching Mark rush down the hall.

"Why don't you sit back down, Sue Ellen?" she says, going to her.

Sue Ellen drops back down into her seat. Susana sits next to her and pats her hand.

Sue Ellen manages a tight smile. "Let's not think the worst, right?" she says but squeezes Susana's hand when the officers come in with Mark.

"Sue Ellen Ewing?"

"Yes. What happened? What is it?"

The officers look at Susana and Mark.

"I want them to stay," Sue Ellen says. "Now what's this about?"

"Ma'am, we're here because of a bumper sticker," the short officer says.

Sue Ellen exhales with relief and laughs. "What! Is my slogan against the law?" she jokes. "Did JR put you up to this?"

"Stop talking, Fisher," the officer says to his partner. "Apologies, Mrs. Ewing. He's never made a notification before."

Sue Ellen's smile fades. "Notification?" she nearly whispers.

"May I?" The officer gestures to the chair next to Sue Ellen.

She nods.

"Ma'am, there's been a serious accident - "

Sue Ellen gasps. JR or John Ross? In this very moment she's unsure which name she dreads more.

"Now, just hold on," the officer says, taking out his small notepad. "I hear you got a son. This incident involves a female, so you can ease your mind on that account."

Sue Ellen sits motionless, her eyes wide and anxious. _Ann? Lucy? Ruby? Please not Ruby_.

"A vehicle went off the overpass on Highway 30 at the 10 interchange about two hours ago. The driver, a young lady, was killed on impact far as we can tell."

"Killed dead right away," Fisher says and smacks his hands together like squashing a bug. "No sufferin' on this one."

The officer sitting down points his finger and shakes it at Fisher who shrugs his shoulders.

"The victim's identification was inside the vehicle," he continues, "and we sent a unit to the address of the car's registered owner - "

"And who was that?" Mark interrupts.

Sue Ellen snaps her head around to Mark.

"…..but got no answer at the door, ma'am," the officer continues to Sue Ellen. "We have no information on next of kin from the victim's name - "

"WHO IS IT?" Sue Ellen yells.

"If you'll just let me have my process, ma'am. I need to explain the steps we've taken to find next of kin before I share the victim's name. Legal reasons."

Sue Ellen looks at Mark who is leaning so far over the table he looks like he might leap over it and choke the name out of the officer himself.

"As I was saying, we've not located any kin. The car had your campaign sticker on the bumper, ma'am, and that's what brung us here, along with a parking pass for this building." He clears his throat. "Do you know or employ an Aubrey Holt?"

"AUBREY? AUBREY! Oh no, no," Sue Ellen yells, jumps up and runs down the hall to Aubrey's desk. Empty. She steadies herself on the partition.

The officers, Mark and Susana come up behind her. Susana has her hand over her mouth trying not to cry.

"So, for the record, that's a yes?" Fisher says.

"Mark?" Sue Ellen says. "When? Where…where was she going?"

"I don't…she didn't…..," he mutters.

"Susana when did she leave?" Sue Ellen asks.

"I don't know - "

"WAS SHE INVISIBLE HERE?" Sue Ellen shouts. "Doesn't anyone…..."

The rest of the staff stops and stares.

"Why don't we go back to your office, Sue Ellen?" Mark says and takes her arm.

Sue Ellen pulls it away and walks ahead.

"She's…dead? Really?" Mark says to Officer Fisher who looks at him strangely.

"Are you _smiling_?" Fisher asks, crossing his arms.

"What? No! No. Of course not!" Mark says, horrified. "I'm just a nervous person. By nature. I tend to smile when I'm nervous," he says and a feeble giggle bursts forth. He rubs his cheeks, wanting to punch himself in the face.

Officer Fisher regards him closely for a moment that seems like an hour to Mark.

They all file back to Sue Ellen's office in silence. Susana puts a box of tissue on the table and takes one.

"My apologies for your loss, Mrs. Ewing," the other officer says. "Forgive me but I have a few more questions."

"I was just talking to her this morning," Sue Ellen says, unbelieving. "We made plans for lunch tomorrow."

"Ma'am, just a few more questions and we'll be on our way. What was Ms. Holt's title here?"

Sue Ellen looks at Mark. He almost does air quotes but stops himself in time.

"Social Media Specialist," he says.

"Fine, that's fine," says the officer, writing on his pad. He asks several more questions about Aubrey's employment and Sue Ellen answers.

"Does anyone have knowledge of her family members? An emergency contact number? Anything?" the officer asks.

No one responds.

"She said she was married," Sue Ellen finally says, but I never met her husband and, I'm ashamed to say, I don't even know his name. My god, what a horrible accident. Seems so unfair, they're a young couple."

"Wasn't no accident," Fisher says with too much enthusiasm.

"Hey! Shut it!" says his partner. "That's on a need to know basis only."

"What? Well I need to know," Sue Ellen says. "She is…..was…..my employee and I'm responsible for her during work hours. Now what the hell are you saying?"

Sue Ellen's eyes well with tears and she snatches a tissue from the the box.

Now Fisher lets his partner do the talking.

The officer sighs. Susana chokes a sob down. Mark's hands are sweating so much there are droplets in his palm lines. He takes a wad of tissues and wipes them dry. Officer Fisher is staring at him.

"Ma'am, according to an eye witness, Ms. Holt appeared to purposely run her car off the cliff."

Sue Ellen gasps loudly and braces herself on the chair. She shakes her head back and forth but no words come out of her open mouth.

"This gal have a bad day here at work or somethin'?" Fisher asks looking straight at Mark.

Mark suppresses another insane nervous giggle. Should he mention Aubrey's state when she arrived this morning?

Sue Ellen's desk clock chimes an alarm and seconds later her cell does too.

She dabs her red eyes with the tissue. "Excuse me a moment," she says softly.

She removes the pill bottle from her purse and takes one, keeping her back turned to the others a bit longer.

She sighs deeply, facing them again.

"Mrs. Ewing," says the officer. "I'm sorry to ask you this, but we need someone to identify the body in lieu of kin. As the victim's employer - "

"Aubrey. Her name is Aubrey," Sue Ellen says. "I'll do it. Where do I go?"

"We can take you down to the morgue," he says.

Sue Ellen closes her eyes briefly at the word 'morgue'.

"I'll follow, if you don't mind," she says, gathering her purse. "I need to see someone on the way back. Mark, hold off notifying the staff until you hear from me that it really is her."

Mark nods.

"Sue Ellen, shall I go with you?" Susana says.

"No honey, thank you," Sue Ellen replies, patting Susana's cheek on her way out behind the officers.

Mark follows them out. Officer Fisher turns around suddenly. "Mark _Ellis_ you said, right?"

Mark stops. He nods slowly, trying not to let his eyes expose his anxiety.

"You got a relation on the force, Ellis? We got a Boone Ellis on morning shift," Fisher says.

"No," Mark says a little to quickly.

"Gentlemen, can we go please?" Sue Ellen says, giving Mark a sideways look. "I'd like to get this over with."

* * *

Sue Ellen leaves the Dallas morgue feeling like her legs may not carry her to the car. She wobbles across the pavement and sits on a cement planter halfway across the parking lot. She looks around the pavement sparse with cars. The Texas heat rises off the asphalt in blurry waves. Sue Ellen has trouble catching her breath. A squawking black crow flies overhead. It sounds louder than it should.

Alone in the roasting parking lot with the image of Aubrey's broken neck and green eyes wide open burned into her mind, Sue Ellen breaks down. She cries freely for the girl with the lonely eyes that looked a lot like hers did at one time but for the color.

"Oh Aubrey, honey," she says quietly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Could I have done something? Could I have helped you?"

She replays the last conversation with her again. "Who did you owe the favor to?" she says, looking up to the sky pink with early dusk light. "Was this what you said you had to do? _This_? And I told you to go ahead and do it….oh…..god….."

Sue Ellen feels sick. She dry heaves over the side of the planter.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" a morgue employee shouts from the entrance, holding the glass door open.

Just the sight of his white coat snaps Sue Ellen out of her misery for the moment.

She wipes the sweat from her forehead and waves at him. "Fine. I'm fine, thank you," she says, forcing herself to walk to the car.

She blasts the air conditioning straight into her face and closes her eyes. One more heave wretches her body forward. She puts both hands over her mouth and tries to calm down by reminding herself that no one can derail a troubled mind hellbent on doing something, no matter how unwise. She knows this emphatically.

After a few more deep breaths she calls Mark.

"Sue Ellen?"

"It's her," she says. "It's Aubrey."

"Oh wow. Um….I'm sorry you had to do that….I mean I'm sorry she's dead too….oh….uh - "

"Go ahead and tell the staff. Please just call it an accident for now, alright? I mean….we really don't know for sure…" Sue Ellen trails off.

"Of course. Sure. You're right, that's best."

"Tell them they can take tomorrow off if they'd rather."

"Tomorrow? But it's your fundraising dinner….at the farm…"

"Mark, a young girl is dead, possibly by her own hand. Raising money doesn't matter right now if you don't mind," Sue Ellen says, irritated. "Did you and Aubrey argue this morning?" she says.

Mark bristles at the accusatory tone.

"No! No we did not. In fact today's the first time she's said good morning to me…._ever_."

"Why did you deny knowing Boone to that officer?"

"Why do you think?" Mark snaps, instantly regretting his demeanor.

He resets his attitude. "You recall the DUI stop? The dead officer's glove?" he says. "Boone putting himself in the middle of this mess to help you? He needs to maintain distance from us, remember?" Mark says, confused he has to explain this.

Sue Ellen goes right back to Aubrey.

"Did you confront Aubrey with that picture of yours today?" she says.

Mark pulls the cell away from his ear and looks at it. He shakes it as if trying to knock sense into Sue Ellen.

"No! No I didn't say anything about it to her. You don't think I had something to do with this, do you?"

Mark can't believe the turn this is taking. Oh, yes he can. _Damn you Aubrey, you've got the last laugh, haven't you?_

"I really don't know what I think right now, Mark. I just know I need to talk to an old friend," she says. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sue Ellen hangs up and speeds down the highway to Southfork.

* * *

Mark sits staring at his phone. What just happened with that conversation? His file drawer is slightly open and he kicks it closed with a bang. He glares at Aubrey's desk. _Why did you ever have to come here_?

The question urges him on. He gathers the staff and relays the message Sue Ellen requested, then heads out the lobby and down the block to the corner liquor market to use the pay phone.

"Dallas Police 911. Do you have an emergency?"

"No, I - "

"Please hold."

Mark sighs and looks over each shoulder, cursing his paranoia.

"Dallas Police dispatch, what is the nature of your call?"

"Yes, uh, I have information for an officer investigating a highway death today."

Mark's tongue bunches up in his mouth, it's so dry. He swallows and sticks it out, wiggling it back and forth.

"Your name, sir?"

"Anonymous."

"Beg pardon?"

"I want to remain anonymous. I heard that's possible. On TV. Is where I heard it."

Mark wants to die on the spot, as stupid as that sounded. Surely the dispatcher has flagged him as mental by now.

"Continue," she says.

He obeys the command.

"A girl named Aubrey Holt drove off the Highway 30 overpass today and died. Officers were having trouble locating next of kin. They should talk to a Mr. Harris Ryland of Ryland Transportation about her, R-Y-L-A-N-D" he spells.

"And why is that, sir?….Hello?" the dispatcher says to the dead line.

* * *

A dust cloud kicks up behind Sue Ellen's Porsche as she skids to a stop on Southfork's front drive. She doesn't even check her face in the vanity mirror before hurrying past JR's car to the front door. She opens it and steps inside, pauses, sighs and steps back out. She rings the bell and waits, blinking back tears. She can't stop herself from unravelling any longer. She rings the bell again.

Ann looks out the glass panes and slowly opens the door.

"Sue Ellen? What's the matter?" she says without inviting her in.

"Oh Ann," Sue Ellen tries to smile. "I just need to talk to JR," she says, her voice breaking.

Ann steps outside and closes the door behind her.

"JR?"

"Yes, please, can you just…..get him for me….please," Sue Ellen says trying to hold on.

Ann pats her on the shoulder. "Wow you're upset! What happened? Did you lose that big donor?" Ann says, her eyes gleeful.

"Please, could you get JR for me?"

"He's not here."

"What? But his car….."

"Yeah. Well, he left with Christopher, I think. Sorry."

"Where to? When?" Hot tears run down Sue Ellen's face as Ann stands between her and her former home.

"Don't know."

"Why are you being like this?" Sue Ellen says. "Why won't you even let me in?"

Ann can't stop a smirk from twisting her lips.

Sue Ellen looks up to JR's bedroom balcony. "JR!" she screams. "JR are you there?"

"Sue Ellen!" Ann hisses. "Shhhh! Stop it! Have you lost your mind again?"

She tries to push Sue Ellen back towards her car.

"JR! PLEASE!" Sue Ellen shouts, feeling around in her bag for her cell.

Ann knocks the phone out of her hand and kicks it into the bushes.

"Stop it, Sue Ellen! Look at yourself! You're being ridiculous."

"ME?" Sue Ellen cries.

"What in hell's going on down there?" JR says from his balcony.

"JR!" Sue Ellen says, wiping her face.

"What is it honey?" JR leans over the railing, looking down.

Sue Ellen holds her arms out to him and he sees her tear-stained face.

"You stay right there, Sue Ellen. I'm coming down. Stay right there."

Ann shakes her head. "He's too old for your drama, Sue Ellen. You ought to just leave him be."

"You cruel bitch," Sue Ellen says, her eyes blazing. "You knew he was here, didn't you?"

Sue Ellen's expression goes from anger to sadness. "What's happened to you? To us? We were friends…..weren't we?" she asks.

JR throws the front door open like a sheriff raiding a saloon and takes Sue Ellen into his arms.

"Okay, sugar, it's alright now," he says, walking her up the porch. "Whatever it is, ol' JR can fix it, you'll see."

She buries her head in his shoulder, inhaling his familiar cologne. His arms tight around her steady her shaky legs as she walks up the steps past Ann.

"She said you weren't here," Sue Ellen says looking up at JR, her wide, sad eyes searching his face.

He wants to kiss her right now.

"I thought you'd gone out," Ann says, arms crossed.

"Out? Where? Who with?" JR says over his shoulder.

"With Christopher," Sue Ellen says.

JR stops. "Christopher's been in Austin since yesterday, at the horse auction."

Ann looks away.

"Sue Ellen, honey, you go on upstairs and sit down a spell in my room. I'll be up in just a minute," he says and leads her by the hand to the stairs.

As soon as Sue Ellen disappears upstairs, JR turns to Ann, his face red with anger.

"That wasn't nice, Ann," he says calmly. "That wasn't nice at all."

His eyes dance with glee.

"Don't be silly. I thought you were out. I didn't know who with," she says.

JR takes his wallet out of his pocket and removes several dollar bills.

Ann's expression becomes unsure. Suddenly he shoves the bills down her cleavage.

"JR! I beg your pardon!"

"Oh come on now," JR says. "I'm just tipping you for a good performance. You almost had Sue Ellen convinced, didn't you? Almost turned her away, had all that commotion not woke me up from my evening nap. Hazards of being old," he says and winks.

Ann backs away from him, pulling the bills out of her blouse and throwing them on the ground.

"You're sick, you know that? You ought to be put back in that care home. I should tell Bobby what you did."

"Oh I don't think you want to do that, honey, I really don't." JR laughs.

Ann rolls her eyes and pushes past him into the house. He grabs her wrist and pulls her close.

"What's the matter?" he says. "Has it been so long since you were tipped that way that you don't remember?"

Her eyes narrow and JR watches her pupils widen with fear. He can see the smugness evaporate from her like steam as his words sink in.

"I don't know what you mean," she says, trying to smile. "You're …..you're nuts, just like your ex-wife."

JR laughs loud and long, tipping his hat to her.

"That's right, honey, and I really can't be responsible for my actions, I tell you!"

"You're a crazy old man who makes no sense."

"I am old, aren't I. My, where have the years gone?" he says. "Time does fly when you're having fun! You know what though, I'd sure like to live to be 89, I surely would! Think I'll make it?"

The color drains from Ann's face at the mention of that particular number. She swallows hard and with much effort at sounding calm says, "I hope not."


	35. Chapter 35

_Author's note: Just a sincere thank you to all who enjoyed the last chapter with JR and Sue Ellen and let me know about it. There is so much love for this couple! It make for an exciting writing project and a daunting one too. I do my best to stay true to these two iconic characters while putting them in new situations and I'm honored by your comments. Thank you!_

* * *

Upstairs in JR's room, Sue Ellen sits on the edge of his bed, eyes closed, calming down from the frantic state she was in outside. She runs her hands back and forth over the quilt atop the mattress, feeling the different pieces of material Miss Ellie sewed together all those years ago. _She kept this family sewed together, too._

Sue Ellen's relieved she is no longer crying. How silly she must have sounded screaming JR's name from the driveway like a child. She'd given him a fright, no doubt. And _Ann_. Ann saw it all. She stands up, embarrassment flushing her face.

What would her political opponents say if they saw her like that? She'd be laughed off the debate stage. They'd call her emotional, an emotional woman. And she's not. She is not. Will she even make it to the debate stage? Did Mark notice how upset she was at the office? What if he tells a rival campaign? _I was pretty hard on him today_. He couldn't be responsible for Aubrey's death? Could he? Why did Aubrey agree to lunch tomorrow if she knew she'd be dead? DEAD.

Sue Ellen shakes her head, trying to settle all the unpleasant thoughts bouncing in her brain like bingo balls in the hopper. She dabs some cool water on her face in JR's bathroom. _Settle down. This isn't you anymore_. The woman looking back at her in the mirror is a far cry from the broken one trapped in the same glass so long ago. Right?

"Sue Ellen?" JR says, his boots plodding on the bedroom's hardwood floor.

She sniffles hard one last time. "In here," she says behind the bathroom door.

"Come out here, honey. Come on out! You wouldn't believe what I just did to Ann, oh it was perfect, it really was. I can't believe how opportunity just falls right into my lap," he says, chuckling.

"Sue Ellen? Come on now."

JR pounds on the bathroom door.

"Shhh," she says opening it. "I've already caused enough commotion around here."

"Oh now," JR says taking her hands. "It's been a long time since I've heard you yelling my name at Southfork. I've missed it."

JR's face is bright with delight, his blue eyes clear and sparkly.

Sue Ellen shakes her head. "What have you done? You look like a naughty little boy."

He hollers with laughter, slapping his thigh and tossing his white Stetson on the small table in the corner of his room.

"There's nothing like pulling the rug out from under someone when they good and well deserve it," he says. "Okay, even if they don't deserve it."

He laughs _that way_. But Sue Ellen doesn't laugh or smile as she walks over to the bed and picks up her purse.

"What's this?" JR says. "What are you doing?"

Sue Ellen sighs. "Going home. I shouldn't have come here. I don't…It's not…I don't live here anymore."

She heads for the door.

"Oh now wait a minute, Sue Ellen. I'm not gonna have this, no sir."

He steps in front of her. She moves around him.

"Hold on, now!" JR says, grabbing her arm. "You were nearly hysterical and now you're just fine?"

Sue Ellen winces at 'hysterical'.

"That's right, I'm fine," she says. "I'm fine now, it's finished. It was just something at the office that caught me by surprise, shocked me, I guess you could say," she looks away. "I've had time to think about it now, and I'm fine. I've handled it."

JR tightens his mouth, snatches her purse and throws it on the bed. It slides to the side of the mattress and the contents spill out onto the floor with a clatter.

"JR! What is it with you people in this house smacking things out of my hand? Have you completely lost your manners? Miss Ellie would be appalled."

"What's appalling is you lying to me right now about being fine – "

Sue Ellen laughs. "Do you hear yourself? You've told more lies than the devil himself and you take me to task for it?"

To her dismay, she feels the tears returning.

"I'M FINE! Damn you!" she chokes out.

JR looks at her lovingly as he comes close. She shakes her head 'no' and lightly pushes him away on his chest. He takes her hands and kisses them, then slowly wraps her arms around his neck.

"It's alright, honey. It's alright," he says as she allows herself to fold into him, softly crying.

"I know you're a different person now. I know that," he says gently. "But there's nothing wrong with leaning on people now and then…who love you…..your family," he says.

Sue Ellen holds on tighter and cries harder, no longer able to reason herself out of guilt and sorrow for Aubrey.

"That's right, sugar," JR says, rocking her. "You'll be strong again tomorrow, honey. We both know you will be."

After a good long cry, they sit side-by-side on the edge of JR's bed, holding hands. Sue Ellen lays her head on his shoulder.

"One of my employees killed herself today. Drove her car right off the highway overpass in the middle of the afternoon."

JR's eyes widen. "Good lord," he says.

"She was a young girl, JR, a beautiful girl. Stunning really, and smart too. She had these huge green eyes, I've never seen such gorgeous eyes. Green as grass in the sun. Just, dazzling."

JR recalls the pretty green-eyed girl who sat on Sue Ellen's desk and purred at him the other day. He saw danger in those eyes even in that short encounter. He keeps that to himself.

"Well today on that metal table at the morgue her eyes were cloudy," Sue Ellen continues. "Wide open and….dull….flat, almost gray. She had this big black bruise all across her face, over her nose. Just awful, _awful_. I can't get it out of my mind."

"My god, Sue Ellen, why did you go there?"

"They couldn't find any family and they needed someone to identify her, the police did. So I went. I did it," she says.

"Lying there dead on that table, she looked so….lonely…..and scared. I closed her eyes," Sue Ellen says, wiping her tears away.

"JR, what if she had no one? How could I not know that? She worked for me. She was part of my team." Sue Ellen shivers.

"Now look darlin', just because you didn't know this gal's innermost feelings doesn't mean you're to blame for her death," JR says.

"She told me she was married," Sue Ellen continues, "but there would have been a record. The police would have found it, right?" She looks up at JR.

"People hide all kinds of secrets for different reasons, most of which make no sense at all," he says.

"She was so beautiful, JR. If you could have seen her….it just doesn't make sense…"

"Well, sometimes the prettiest flowers are the most fragile," JR says, surprising himself with his bedside philosophizing.

He hugs Sue Ellen tighter.

"Take our wedding flower," he says. "Orchids are beautiful, a prized bloom, but they can't stand any trauma at all," JR says.

At the mention of their wedding, something suddenly strikes Sue Ellen.

"Why didn't you ask about John Ross when I got here? Weren't you worried something happened to him?" she says.

JR smiles tenderly and caresses her face. "If something had happened to John Ross you'd have collapsed on the spot, as much as you love that boy, and I'd be called to the hospital for both of you. Simple as that."

That truth makes Sue Ellen's heart beat faster. She puts her hand to her chest.

"And I'd have fallen over dead myself if either one of you was hurt," JR says. "I mean it, Sue Ellen."

_I think he really does_.

JR's old hands are folded in his lap now. Sitting here wrinkled and worn in the low glow of the bedroom lamp, his love for her and their son displayed so openly, he has never looked more handsome to her and she aches to be with him again.

But she's packed those desires away, she reminds herself. Her health's been taken from her and she's not about to endanger JR's too.

"What were you gloating about earlier?" she asks, sitting up and away from him. "With Ann? What did you do?"

JR chuckles and gets up from the bed. He swings the framed picture of an oil derrick away from the wall and opens his safe.

"Page 89," he says and tosses the white book to Sue Ellen.

She turns the glossy white publication over in her hands.

"What's this?" she says. "Blank covers?"

JR smiles mischievously.

"Oh my god," Sue Ellen says at Ann's distasteful pose with the pole and lasso on in the color picture on page 89.

She snaps the book shut and drops it on JR's bed, rubbing her hands as if they are dirty.

"Where did you get that? What's it for?" she says.

"That's highly classified information," he says with a sly grin.

"Well when did she take that picture?"

"About 10 years back in Vegas, near as I can tell. Her former employer arranged it," JR says.

Sue Ellen raises an eyebrow. "Employer?"

"That's right, honey. Mrs. Bobby Ewing was a professional tramp. That there's a whore catalogue," JR says with much enthusiasm.

"What? JR! Does Bobby know?"

"Of course not," JR says. "But one more stunt like the one she pulled on you tonight and he will. She's one insult away from climbing that pole again, far as I'm concerned."

Sue Ellen is astonished. "Well," she says, shocked. "I can't believe it. She told me she was a model…...I never imagined….I guess you never really know some people."

JR returns the white book to the safe and spins the lock dial around with a whir.

Sue Ellen cocks her head. "JR? Why did you show that to me? Aren't you worried I might say something about it, with Ann coming at me like she did?" she says, sincerely curious about the answer.

JR turns around to face her. "No," he says pulling her up from the bed by the hands.

"We're partners, you and me, aren't we?" he says holding her close.

She flashes back all those years when he last said that to her, touched he still feels this way.

"I can trust you, Sue Ellen, and I do, with all my heart," he says and pulls her closer, their faces nearly touching.

"JR!" she whispers cautiously as his lips brush hers.

"Stop it," he says. "It's safe. You know it's safe," JR says, looking straight into her eyes. "I asked the Google. The kids showed me how to search online. And the Google says it's safe."

She closes her eyes and he kisses her softly. The years fall away instantly. The feel of his mouth on hers is so familiar and warm that she whimpers slightly, unprepared for the wave of emotion weakening her knees again.

She pushes her lips tighter against his but when she feels his mouth open she pulls away from him.

"Thank you, JR," she says hastily, straightening her hair and blouse. "Thank you for making me feel better.

She holds his hand to her cheek and closes her eyes for a moment.

"Promise me something," she says, blinking back tears. "If you ever have to look at me on that table, close my eyes. I don't want anyone but you seeing that far into me," she says and walks out the door before he can respond.

"That's nonsense, Sue Ellen!" he calls after her. "Nobody in this family is goin' to the damn morgue any time soon. Not unless I put 'em there," he says to the empty hallway.

Downstairs, Sue Ellen passes Ann in the den on the way out the front door.

"Leaving already, Sue Ellen?" she says.

Sue Ellen stops and slowly turns around.

"Oh, I'll be back soon. For Sunday dinner, as a matter of fact," she says walking into the dining room.

Ann quickly follows.

Sue Ellen walks around the dining room table, staring at Ann as she runs her fingers along the backs of each chair. Ann's expression tenses. Sue Ellen stops at Miss Ellie's chair. She swipes her index finger along the top piece of wood and holds it out to Ann.

"Make sure Carmen gives my chair a good dusting before then, will you?" Sue Ellen says and lets herself out the door.

Upstairs, looking out his bedroom window watching Sue Ellen drive away JR says, "You got to decide what you want from me, Sue Ellen, while I'm still here to give it to you."


	36. Chapter 36

_Author's Note: Oh WOW I'm so grateful for the appreciation of the JR and Sue Ellen scenes in the last couple chapters! I'm very thrilled, touched and humbled by the compliments. Big thanks to everyone who's reading whether you review or not :) There will be more SE/JR scenes but please be patient with me as there is a plot to move here. I hope you continue reading. Your fellow Dallas fan, Corina_

**WARNING**: This chapter contains infrequent strong language and some violence of a mature nature.

* * *

"What a nice way to spend an evening, watching the four fat fucks I'm going to have fired tomorrow," Harris Ryland says hidden inside his car in the stadium parking lot.

He writes down the license plate of the truck the four men in Local 23 Union hats and Dallas Cowboys football jerseys leave in, the same four who sat in JR Ewing's box for the game tonight.

The additional $37,000 in trucking violation fees Dallas Commercial Enforcement Police slapped his fleet with today doesn't bother him anymore. The look on Ewing's face when he hears his lackey has been canned will be priceless. Hopefully he will know about it before he's a pile of broken old bones at the bottom of a ditch tomorrow night. _This really is a good week._

Harris gets on Highway 30 toward downtown Dallas for the most expensive dinner he can get at the The Omni Hotel. He met Annie so many times there, such fond memories in the expansive penthouse suites on the top floor. His loins tighten and flex at the thought of her. He rubs his face and beard, clearing his throat. Change of plans. This night calls for celebration and it takes two to party. Or three?

Harris dials the special number on his cell.

"Harris Ryland," he says into his earpiece.

"Good evening, Mr. Ryland. So pleased to hear from you. Whom may I send?"

Harris taps his fingers gingerly on the leather steering wheel.

"Tell you what," he says with a tight smile. "Gimme two. It's a special occasion."

"Very good, sir."

"Blonde, brunette, whatever. Just make sure one has green eyes. Big green eyes like Annie. Understand?"

"Ah, Ann, my, my. Yes. Understood, Mr. Ryland. Time and place please?"

"Two, no three hours from now. Omni Hotel. Have the desk ring me."

_They don't get dinner. They're dessert._

Harris chuckles at his clever wordplay and sighs contently. Everything is falling right into place.

He enjoys the sunset view as he climbs the highway overpass. A few bouquets of flowers are placed against the guardrail. Some fool met his demise up here on the road, no doubt. Losers crash and burn, not Harris. Harris is a winner and in 24 hours he'll prove it in the grandest fashion.

He swings by home to gather his overnight bag and freshen up before dinner. Whistling happily, he pours himself a scotch in the study. The answering machine blinks with a message. Only one person still calls his landline.

"Harris!" Judith's voice says. "Nearly $40,000 more today. FORTY THOUSAND. Do you hear me? HARRIS?" she shouts.

He downs his scotch in one big gulp.

"Who is stealing my money, Harris?" Judith's voice coos as if she is speaking to a child. The sound of it stabs him in the ear like an ice pick.

"Darling, you've got until the end of the week to fix this. If you can't, I will. And Harris? Mother loves you."

Judith giggles softly before hanging up.

Harris stares at the answering machine before repeatedly pressing the 'delete' button.

"There are no new messages," the female auto voice keeps saying.

Harris yanks the power cord out of the socket.

"One day, Mother, I'm going to delete _you_," he says, pressing the button one more time.

Three loud knocks at the front door punctuate his sentence.

He opens the camera feed on his computer. Police? Harris stiffens, thinking of the Mercedes mechanic and the illegal master key in his safe. Impossible. He concealed his identity so well. How could they know?

Three more knocks and two door bell rings.

Harris wipes the moisture off his head and tightens the tie he'd just loosened.

"Officers?" he says, opening the door.

His jaw tenses as he recognizes the older officer from Aubrey's troubled days years ago.

"Mr. Harris Ryland?" the short one says.

"Well it is you, isn't it?" says the older one. "Long time no see, Mr. Ryland."

Harris strains a smile. "What a surprise, Officer Skeen, and Officer..?"

"Fisher."

"Ah. Well. How may I help you?"

"Mind if we come in," Skeen asks, taking a step forward.

Harris raises his eyebrows but motions them in.

Fisher looks around the extravagant interior and up at the imposing chandelier in the foyer.

"Whooo! You are livin' large, ain't you, cowboy? What exactly do you do for a living? Transportation, isn't it?"

Skeen shakes his head. Harris ignores the question.

"Mr. Ryland," Skeen says. "Do you know an Aubrey Holt?"

Harris' stomach drops but he doesn't show it. "Do I know…..who?" he says twisting his head to one side.

"Aubrey Holt," Skeen says louder. "Female Caucasian, 27 years old, black hair, _green eyes_. Your daughter Emma have a sister, by chance? Or maybe a cousin's turned up?"

Harris nearly coughs hearing Aubrey's real name after so many years.

"No. No sister. No relation," he says. "Emma's quite enough for any father to uh, handle. I'm sure you'd agree, Officer Skeen."

Skeen tips his hat. "Where is Emma nowadays, anyway? Been a long time since we had any trouble from her, hasn't it?"

"Good question," Harris says. "I haven't seen her since you have. She just…..faded away. Truth be told, I think she wanted to leave her troubles behind. Start over somewhere."

Skeen makes a note on his pad, not believing for a second that Harris doesn't know where his daughter is.

"So what's brought you here concerning this girl, this 'Aubrey', was it?" Harris asks, gaining confidence that the new name, face and hair successfully disguised Emma as planned.

"We're not at liberty to say," Skeen says, infusing Harris with alarm again.

"Excuse me?" he says.

"He means you don't get to know that," Fisher says. "Police business."

Both Harris and Skeen glare at him.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure you can understand my concern in a situation such as this. Being asked about a young lady who's obviously caught the law's attention and then denied explanation?"

Harris continues appealing to Skeen's morality.

"This woman surely has a father who'd want to know about her..…situation, just as you and I would, Officer Skeen. Perhaps I can be of help locating him if you tell me what this is about. I do have business contacts in 48 states," Harris says calmly. "Truckers see a lot of things on the highways across our country. I'd be glad to share a picture, or a bulletin of this girl, across my network."

"We're not at liberty to – "Fisher says before Skeen interrupts him.

"Just shut it," he says, sighing. "Look Ryland, this here's a mighty sad story. This young lady drove off the highway overpass today."

Fisher makes a gliding motion with his arm, "Whoosh!" he says. "Right off Highway 30, that steep interchange. Imagine! Bet she thought she could fly," he says tapping his head with his index finger.

_Those bouquets?_

"Someone's got to be missing this girl," Skeen says. "We tried to find next of kin for hours instead of just waiting on the coroner's DNA process. That takes weeks. I'd ruther her kin know she's gone right now. It's the right thing to do."

Harris looks at Skeen like he is speaking a foreign language.

"_Drove_ off?" Harris says, wrinkling his face up in disbelief.

His voice sounds miles away to his ears. He leans one shoulder against the study's door frame.

"On purpose!" Fisher adds. "Ain't that something? Just flew her car over the railing like it was a damn jet plane."

Skeen holds his hand up again.

"Well you already told him the story," Fisher says, "and that there's the kicker."

"Is she dead?" Harris says robotically.

"Yeah, 'course she dead," Skeen replies as if that was a stupid question.

Harris Ryland stands silent, eyes squinted and mouth slightly open.

_This is a set-up to expose Aubrey's identity. How obvious, and pathetic. A Ewing's behind this._

Harris switches off the emotion that was beginning to brew.

"Really?" he says, suppressing a smile. "How positively ghastly."

"Yes sir," Skeen says. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost my child that way. I can't even think about it."

"I can't get that damn song out of my head," Fisher says.

"Song? What song?" Harris asks.

"When we rolled up on the crash, "The Hustle" was blaring out the busted windows. You know, that seventies song, "The Hustle"? Do do do - do do do do - do dooooo?"

Harris slowly nods his head, memories of his brother's wedding flashing before him.

"Yeah," Fisher continues. "Girl's phone was blastin' that song and we couldn't shut it off. Screen was damn near cracked in half but that song just kept right on playing. Guess them iPhones are as durable as those damn batteries, or was it watches? Remember that commercial? Takes a licking and keeps on ticking?"

"Batteries don't tick," Harris says flatly.

"What's that?" Fisher says.

"We'll be on our way," Skeen says and motions to Fisher. "Someone's sent us on a goose chase with you, apparently," he says to Harris. "Apologies, Ryland."

"Wait," Harris says, clearing his throat. "Where is she, the girl? What will happen if you can't…..find anyone?" he asks with a mouth so dry his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

"Oh she's chillin'…at the morgue! Get it?" Fisher says.

"SHOW SOME RESPECT!" Harris booms with all his might. He wants to twist Fisher's head off like a bottle cap.

Skeen stares at Harris, shocked.

"Fisher, wait in the car, goddammit!" Skeen shouts as Fisher hurries past, eager to escape Harris' sudden rage.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Ryland, I really am," Skeen says. "I don't know how that fool's still here, the things he says. In fact, you didn't hear this from me, but if you'd care to complain – "

"What will happen to the girl?" Harris repeats, leaning on the back of his chair. "At the…..morgue."

"Oh, she's been officially identified, if that's what you mean. She worked for Sue Ellen Ewing, the lady running – "

"I know who she is," Harris says above the deafening thuds of his pounding heart.

"Right, well, Mrs. Ewing ID'd her down at the morgue, poor lady. I felt right sorry for her having to see that girl all tore up like that."

Harris looks up to the ceiling and releases a soft groan.

"I know what you mean," Skeen says. "Look, Ryland, we've had our differences on either side of the law, but we're both poppas and we love our kids, don't we. I am glad it wasn't your Emma that drove off that cliff and died today, I truly am."

"How do you know she wasn't run off the road?" Harris says, barely able to stand.

He leans his elbows on the chair now, bending over its back.

"Oh, no foul play. We got eye witnesses drivers. Several. One lady said the girl even waved at her before she gunned it right off the edge. Weird huh? Guess she reached the limit today, or someone pushed her over it. Well, sorry for the trouble," he says holding out his hand for a shake.

Harris limply grasps it. Skeen looks at him curiously and walks out.

* * *

"My daughter's dead," Harris tells Judith in her silent living room all in white tones.

She stands in front of her mantel below a huge oil painting of her and Harris, unsmiling. Judith rolls her eyes at him.

"What is this, Harris? Dramatics to distract from my company hemorrhaging money?"

She tilts the corner of the painting just an inch, making it perfectly straight.

"Aubrey - _Emma_ - is dead," he says stepping around the white leather couch and turning her around by the shoulder.

Judith laughs softly but stops when she sees his eyes. She stares at him for a moment. She feels his flushed face, his clammy forehead. He closes his eyes at the touch of his mother's hand, seeking comfort.

"What do you mean?" she finally says.

"I mean she's dead, Mother!"

Harris plops down on the couch, head in his hands.

"She drove off the 30 Interchange this afternoon. She….._killed herself_."

Those two words suck all the air out of his lungs. He wants to cut his tongue out for even speaking them.

Judith looks more curious than shocked. She slowly creeps around the glass coffee table and cautiously sits next to Harris as if approaching an easily spooked animal. She glides close to him until they sit on the same cushion. His face still in his hands, Judith puts her hands over his and brings his head to her chest.

"There, there now my prince," she says softly, rubbing his back, rocking back and forth.

She kisses his head. Harris does not make a sound and but for his shoulders shaking in silent sobs, sits perfectly still in his mother's arms.

"Oh Harris," Judith says with a sigh. "It was bound to happen, as troubled as she was, as she's _always_ been. You helped her last this long, darling, you really did. My god, all the things you did for her, all the attention, all the _fuss_," Judith says.

Harris sits up and pulls away from her. She wipes his tears but he pushes her hands into her lap.

"So needy," Judith continues, "so demanding, so _ungrateful_. She was eating you alive, Harris. This is for the best. We both know it. She should have never been."

"Never been what?" he says looking at his mother's perfectly dry eyes.

Judith gives Harris an exasperated look. "Born," she says. "She was a mistake, just like you and that Ann. A dangerous, sloppy mistake. Tell me I'm right," she says coming within inches of his face. She brushes her nose against his.

Harris stands up and so does Judith. Suddenly he grabs her throat and she gasps, eyes growing wide.

"You don't want me to have anyone!" he shouts.

"Harrissss," she whispers in a raspy voice from her choked throat.

"YOU DON'T WANT ANYONE TO LOVE ME!" Harris yells, squeezing tighter.

He can feel the blood pulsing in his mother's arteries. He squeezes until it stops. Now she paws at him but he holds her at arm's length. He laughs at the sight of her, flailing about like this, terrified. A tear runs down her cheek and over Harris' clenched fingers. Another rolls down his other hand. Just as her eyes start closing, Harris releases her and she falls to the floor gasping for breath.

Judith is a crumpled mess of gasps and sobs on the white marble floor. She cannot even lift her head to look at Harris. He watches her writhe around in misery, her heavy gold Chanel bangle bracelets clinking against each other. She rolls onto her back, gripping her reddening throat. One of her designer shoes falls off and Harris kicks it across the room with a clatter.

Shaking her head back and forth, tears streaming down her now pale face, Judith says, "But I love you," in a voice straining against her nearly strangled throat.

Harris squints and scratches at his ears, trying to unhear what she said. She flinches and curls up in a ball as Harris lunges for the oil painting of the two of them. He smashes the canvass over a big crystal table lamp, the pointed finial puncturing right through the portrait of Judith's face.

* * *

Harris lets the two women into his suite at the Omni Hotel. They are both tall stunning beauties, the blonde and the redhead with deep green eyes. He smiles at her first. The blonde tosses her mink over a chair and the redhead mixes them martinis. Harris exchanges pleasantries and endures the fake flattery they lavish upon him. It's part of the game.

The redhead turns around and hands him a drink.

"Thank you, beautiful," he says.

When she smiles, her green eyes sparkle at him. He nearly drops his drink.

"Are you alright, Mr. Ryland?" she asks as he walks to the couch in unsteady steps. "Mr. Ryland?"

The blonde looks at her coworker with alarm.

"Are you having a heart attack or something?" she asks Harris.

He shakes his head.

"No," he manages to say, crashing the martini onto the side table. The stem breaks and the liquor spills onto the carpet.

The blonde backs away from him.

"My daughter died today," Harris says. "She killed herself. And she had lovely green eyes just like you," he says to the redhead as a loud sob bends him in half.

The redhead gasps. The blonde heads for the door, snatching her mink on the way.

"Oh no, uh uh. I don't do this, this role playing shit. That's not part of my deal, I don't care _who_ you are," she says walking out and slamming the door.

The redhead bites her lip, watching Harris cry on the couch.

"You're serious, aren't you?" she says, going to him.

He nods, trying to compose himself.

"I don't want sex tonight," he says, "just some company….…please."

The girl is almost moved to tears herself. She picks up the broken martini glass and places it quietly into the ice bucket.

"Careful," Harris says, collecting himself.

She brings a box of tissue from the bathroom and sits down beside him.

"I'm sorry," she simply says.

Harris lays his head on her lap and cries.


	37. Chapter 37

Ann opens her eyes to Friday morning but rolls over in bed, pulling the covers up higher. She's tired of feeling this dread and worry with JR rattling the family dynamics like a caged bull. And old, stubborn bull, that's what he is.

_You need to be put out to pasture._

Why couldn't he have just settled in without any trouble? Bobby's the head of this family now and has been all these years JR was away in dreamland.

_You can't wind back time, JR. No do overs._

And now he's threatening to stir up her past with stunts like the dollar bills last night. What a crass old man. Honestly. He doesn't care what it would do to his brother to expose her secret. It would ruin their trust, end their marriage. JR just wants to win, at all costs. He's a selfish cheat who crosses the line, a horrible person.

What does the world miss if JR Ewing is no longer in it? Ann can't come up with anything. She buries her head in the pillow and groans, sick of having these conversations with herself.

_I'm protecting my husband and my home. I didn't tell Harris to hurt JR. I'm not responsible for what he does tonight._

She sits up in bed, her guilt freshly laundered and nicely sorted.

"You okay, Annie?" Bobby says in a sleepy voice, eyes still closed.

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?" Bobby says. "You seem….I don't know…..anxious?"

"Anxious! No! What should I be anxious about?" Ann says, laughing.

Bobby's eyes open up now.

"Annie? You _are_ nervous. I know that laugh. Come on, tell me. What's wrong?"

She looks at him, forcing the smile to stay on her face but quickly bursts into tears, still smiling.

"Oh honey," Bobby says, pulling her to him. "What is it?"

She lays her head on his warm bare chest, his gold heart beating beneath her ear.

"No. It's nothing. It's stupid. I'll be fine. Just let me lay here with you a little longer," she says.

He strokes her hair.

"Nothing that makes you cry is stupid, honey. Tell me. Please."

She sighs deeply. "You'll be disappointed in me."

"I doubt it," he says. "You hold yourself to a much higher standard than most folks, Annie. Just because you're disappointed in yourself doesn't mean I will be. And I'll still love you no matter what's happened. You're my wife, I've got your back. Never forget that."

Ann melts into a weeping mess in Bobby's arms for several minutes more.

"Do you ever feel like you need to take a stand for what's right, no matter what the cost?" she asks, settling down beside him now.

"Of course I do. Welcome to the life of Bobby Ewing."

She laughs softly.

"Bobby, that's one of the things I really admire about you, your strong convictions. I want to be more like that," she says snuggling closer. "I feel like I back down too often. And then I hate myself when things go wrong, things that never should have been in the first place."

Bobby sits up against the headboard. "Honey, tell me exactly what's bothering you. No more innuendos. Please, what is it?"

Ann looks up at him, her big green eyes searching his face, weighing risk and benefit.

"I don't want these Sunday dinners to continue," she says.

Bobby tightens his jaw, then laughs. "That's all it is? God, you had me worried something really horrible had happened, or was about to."

Ann moves away from him, pulling the sheet around her nude body.

"So, will you tell JR the dinner's off?" she says.

Bobby's smile fades. "You're serious?"

"Yes. Yes very," she says. "Sue Ellen came over here screeching and wailing to JR like a crazed woman last night, mad about something at work."

"What?"

"That's right. She barged right in here, let herself inside. Bobby, she can't do that. She doesn't live here anymore. I tried to tell her and she started screaming for JR from outside, yelling like she was being attacked or something. It was a complete _scene_."

Bobby looks surprised. "Well honey, she must have been really upset. I'm sure she didn't mean to be rude or - "

"Really? On her way out she told me to make sure her chair was freshly dusted for dinner. _Your mother's chair_."

Bobby raises his eyebrows and sighs.

"It's because of JR and the changes he's making around here, Bobby. The ridiculous changes you're allowing," Ann says. "They're going to take over our home, he and Sue Ellen. They're becoming the center of our family more and more each week," she says, her face pleading with him to agree.

"And again tonight, it's all about Sue Ellen," she says. "I don't want to go to this fundraising dinner and act like she's the holy Savior, but I will, for you and out of respect for your brother, but I don't want that charade brought into my home. No more Sunday dinners, Bobby. I mean it."

Bobby looks at her sympathetically and brushes the hair out of her face.

_Yes. Defend me. You owe me this. I'm your wife._

"Please," Ann pushes on. "We don't owe her anything. She's not a Ewing anymore. Cut the tie and start with canceling Sunday dinner."

Ann feels Bobby tense up. Bad choice of words.

"Now hold on," he says. "Sue Ellen may not be married to JR but she's still John Ross' mother and always will be. We need to respect that, for his sake more than hers or JR's."

"John Ross is a spoiled asshole," Ann says, watching her chance slipping away.

"It's complicated, Annie, Sue Ellen and JR didn't give him the best parenting."

"No, it's simple. He's not your son. He's not _our_ son. Stop trying to make up for all the wrongs in his life. Why are you defending him?" she says, her voice getting louder.

"Annie! He's still my flesh and blood. He's family, just like JR and honestly, Sue Ellen too for all she's been through with us."

Ann kicks her feet under the sheet. "God Bobby! Again with Sue Ellen? Do you have some kind of sick attraction to her needy - "

"ANN!" Bobby shouts. "Watch yourself! You better think before you say what's about to come out of your mouth before you can't take it back. I really can't believe you'd think…."

He looks at her in disbelief heading fast for disgust.

_I'm the unreasonable, jealous nag. Again. JR is dividing us. No, I won't let him._

With that, Ann rejects the notion of calling Harris off whatever he intends to do tonight. JR Ewing won't quit until he gets what he wants and he wants her and Bobby out of here, together or separately. Bobby doesn't see it; he won't see it. It's just going to go on and on and on.

"I'm sorry," Ann says softly. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I'm just…..insecure…..afraid…..to lose what we have here, you and I….Afraid to lose you."

"Ann, Annie," Bobby says, taking her in his arms. "I'm yours and I always will be, so please, stop this. Stop torturing yourself and enjoy our life. Please."

She smiles lovingly at him and moves in for a deep kiss. "You're right. Erase that conversation. It never happened," she says.

Bobby already feels exhausted and the day's only just begun. Why does he feel like it's going to be a very long one?

* * *

Ann pours JR some coffee in the kitchen, trying to steady her hand before bringing it to the breakfast table. Will this be his last cup?

_Stop it. He brought this on himself._

"Well thank you darlin'," JR says without any trace of the shrewd man who shoved dollar bills down her blouse yesterday, threatening to tell her secret.

_How did he find out?_

"You ready for Sue Ellen's big deal tonight?" Ann asks with as much enthusiasm as she can fake.

"You bet, honey," JR says, sipping coffee. "It's gonna be a real big night for her. A lot of important people coming to show support for her campaign. Yes sir, Sue Ellen's gonna be the belle of the ball," JR says to sting Ann.

"Oh I'm sure she will be," she says. "Isn't she always?"

JR smiles. "Say, I think I'll give her the cottage keys tonight. That's a good idea, don't you think?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

"So don't be surprised if you see her moving some things in soon. I know how you dislike surprises," he says and taps his boot on the hardwood floor.

"Great!" Ann says, looking at her plate. "It's nice to see you and Sue Ellen spending more time together. After all, you never know what tomorrow brings."

JR's cell rings.

"JR! I lost my damn job!" Russell shouts. "Resigned in lieu of termination. TERMINATION!"

"Well, good morning," JR says walking out to the patio and closing the sliding door behind him.

"Oh hell no it is not," Russell says. "I'm accused of extortion! I'll never get another job - "

"Now wait just a minute," JR says. "Accused?"

"Yeah, flat out accused me of extorting Ryland Transportation with violation fees from Dallas PD."

"Accused or proved?"

"Well, accused, I guess, but - "

"No. No buts. Aw hell Russell," JR says, "you laid your hand down without seeing any of their cards?"

"Well shit, JR, they're right."

JR shakes his head. "They don't know that. Someone's got a hunch is all. They tapped your boss on the shoulder and demanded action or else, that's all this was. They only had one play and you fell for it."

"Well - "

"If you'da said kiss my ass, they'd have had nothing more to go on. Nothing."

"How are you so sure?"

JR looks over his shoulder. "You tell me, Russell."

"Huh?"

"Did you tell anyone about our deal?"

"No. Hell no! I didn't say nothin' to nobody."

"Well there you have it, then. The most important rule of blackmail is knowing when to call a bluff. Miss it and your opponent will turn around and bite you in the ass."

"Hey thanks for the business lesson, JR, but I'm out of a job all the same. My wife's gonna crack. We were spread thin enough as it was."

Russell's voice shakes. JR looks skyward for patience.

"Look Russell, I'm sorry about this. Sometimes things don't go as planned. Occupational hazard. You sit tight. I'll see what I can do. Bye bye now."

JR hangs up.

Bum's phone buzzes.

"Mornin', JR."

"Bum, I'm gonna need a new contact in the trucker's union. Russell got himself burned. Fun's over with Ryland's trucks, for now."

* * *

"What are you doing out here, Uncle JR, wheeling and dealing?" Christopher jokes, setting his orange juice and newspaper on the patio table.

JR chuckles. "Those days are long gone, son. I'm just an old man trying to enjoy my golden years without much commotion or carrying on."

"Uncle, I cannot believe you said that with a straight face."

JR shrugs his shoulders.

"Believe it. It's true!"

"Right," Christopher says, smiling. "What's true is you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth….a big one to stir up trouble!"

JR points to himself with an innocent expression.

"Christopher?" JR says after a short while. "Let me ask you something. You're a young man, part of this electronic generation. So why do you still read the real paper? Why not get it on your notepad or E-pod or whatever the hell it's called?"

Christopher laughs, "iPad."

"Whatever."

"Well, I don't know if you remember, but Dad used to set me on his lap when he read the morning paper before work. He'd read some aloud and tell me I was his assistant."

JR smiles softly, thinking of young John Ross too.

"So this paper has good memories for me. I guess the feel of it in my hands brings those far away times closer. Does that make any sense?" Christopher says, a bit embarrassed.

"Perfect sense," JR says. "It's about tradition, son, it's important. Families ought to respect their traditions, no matter how things change on the outside."

JR's eyes are far away now and Christopher wonders where he's gone. He lays a hand on JR's shoulder.

"Uncle JR, you want to drive out to Sue Ellen's fundraiser with me, Dad and Ann tonight? Why don't you come with us instead of making that long drive on the back roads to the farm?"

JR returns from memory lane with a quick smile.

"Thank you son, but no. I may not be coming straight home, if things go well," he says, winking.

Christopher shakes his head. "Alright then. Go get her, cowboy. Just make sure you take your cell phone. You know, in case you get stuck or something."

"Stuck?" JR says with amusement. "Hell, boy, I'm not _that_ old yet. And I sure ain't gonna call you if it happens."

"Uncle! That's not what I meant."

* * *

John Ross drives up to Sue Ellen's house just as Maxine walks out the side gate with both dogs in tow on the pink rhinestone tandem leash.

"Mornin'" he says, smile spreading across his face.

"What?" Maxine says. "You ain't gonna watch me from your spy car?"

"Nope," John Ross says, falling instep beside her.

"Oh, you're not askin' this time? You're just gonna go ahead and walk with me, huh?"

"Yup."

Maxine turns her head to hide the unexpected smile.

"You like that leash? Nice how it tethers both dogs together," he says, proud of his purchase.

"Yeah, gives me a free hand to shoo annoying boys away," Maxine says trying to sound insulting but missing the mark, even to her own ears.

"What free hand?" John Ross says, taking hers in his.

"I'll shoo the annoying boys away," he says.

Neither can deny the electric zap when their skin touches. It's like hand in glove, more so for John Ross but Maxine feels it too.

"Come to my Mama's fundraiser with me tonight?" he says, riding the wave.

For once, Maxine is at a loss for words but a squeeze from John Ross' hand prompts an answer without any sass.

"Yes," she simply says.

"Yes? That's it? Is this you talking or have you been hacked by a nicer version of yourself?"

"I just like your Mama, that's all," she says, still holding his hand.

"Oh I see. Well good. She'll be happy you're coming. I'll pick you up at 4, and I might have my Daddy in the car so consider yourself warned."

"Of?"

"My Daddy. He's a pistol and there's no telling what he'll say. Though I could say the same about you, couldn't I?"

* * *

Ruby paces in the parlor, her head tight with worry. Stopping in front of the big window, she looks out at the afternoon sun fading behind billowy gray clouds. She folds her arms across her chest and shakes her aching head.

"Somethin' ain't right here. No. No, somethin' has gone awry," she says, her deep blue eyes searching the front yard.

Maxine's yellow VW Bug is parked in front of Sue Ellen's house. Ruby doesn't get any vibe when she stares at the car.

"Oooh, Lord!" she shouts at the sharp pain in her forehead. "Leave me be if you ain't gonna show me nothin!"

"Miss Ruby?" Paul says in the parlor doorway. "You alright?"

"No. No I am not. Something is wrong…..somewhere. And I can't get a read on it. I just can't," she says squeezing her temples between her hands.

"Something, somewhere? That don't say a whole lot, Miss Ruby."

She glares at Paul, hands on hips.

"Don't you rile me up, Paul! Why don't you do something besides suck air into that big nose and talk foolishness?"

Paul takes a step back, wounded but annoyed.

"That's unkind, Miss Ruby. I'll blame it on your headache, this time."

Ruby waves him off, muttering something.

"Is there a storm comin?" she calls after him.

"No," Paul yells back from the kitchen where he removes the whistling kettle from the stove.

"Why you ask?" he says bringing her a hot pot of bergamot tea.

"There's interference, that's for certain. But I don't think it's on the weather's account," Ruby says, still looking out the window. "Somebody's gone and tipped the scales with what they done. It's like cuttin' in line, best way I can explain it. Throws everything off."

Paul pours her a cup and a fragrant tendril of steam curls up towards the ceiling.

"And I can't get no handle on it but for this old woman's voice in my head saying 'Help is just a phone call away' over and over and over again," Ruby says. "I wish she would shut the hell up about it, I really do."

"Well what can you learn from her voice?" Paul says, sitting across from her.

Ruby sighs. "Pour yourself some tea," she says. "You know, you remind me of your granddaddy right now, honey. The way he used to help me untangle my mind." She smiles at the memories.

"Sorry, about before," she says, tapping her nose.

Paul laughs and takes an exaggerated breath through his nose.

"So, where were we?" he says. "The voice. What does the sound tell you?"

Ruby leans forward. "She's southern, alright. Soft twang, though. Got the yeehaw schooled out of her, or….."

"She was an elegant lady?" Paul offers.

"Yeah, yeah could be. But she wasn't no porcelain doll. This woman had grit and she means business right now. This ain't no broken record. This is urgent. This is a warning. I just don't know who the hell for."


	38. Chapter 38

Harris Ryland arranges his bag of tricks for the evening: a small container of gasoline, two cans of high grade motor oil, a funnel with 24" rubber hose attached and a half empty bottle of bourbon to leave in JR's car. Harris admires his tools. They look so harmless, these items common to any man's garage. But in the right hands they become as powerful as bullets in a rifle. Tonight, Harris is the rifle.

He reconsiders the bourbon and removes it from the black duffle bag. What's the point when JR's body will be sizzled like a piece of charred bacon? There won't be anything left to test for drunk driving. This incident will just have to seem like a mechanical malfunction. A fluke. A real tragedy. Harris laughs as he pours the brown liquor down the drain. Bourbon is not a gentlemen's drink like scotch and JR Ewing is no gentleman. He's a barbaric bully who holds everyone under his thumb just for fun.

Well, Harris won't sit quietly under JR's greedy thumb. He's finally met his match and so has that arrogant, murderous woman of his. Sue Ellen thinks she's two for two with Harris, first Officer Jensen and now Aubrey. Dead. Harris grimaces but beats the pain back with a raging appetite for vengeance. He hopes with all his heart that whatever Sue Ellen said to drive Aubrey off that highway overpass happened after she switched the medication with placebo pills.

_Let that virus devour her from the inside out._

A slight smile passes over Harris' lips at the thought of Sue Ellen wilting from disease. Speaking of, his mother is a disease that's plagued him for years. He fondly recalls the feeling of his hands closing around her throat yesterday, her cold eyes finally flashing with emotion, with fear.

_That's right, mother, I'm vaccinated against you now._

Harris removes a portrait of the two of them above his own mantel and smashes it over his knee. He pulls the cherry wood frame apart, grunting with teeth clenched. When the painting is a splintered mess on the floor, he smooths his hands over his sweaty face and breathes a deep sigh of relief. He sweeps the mess neatly into the fireplace and sets it ablaze.

* * *

I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't have any more tables available tonight," Mark says into the phone.

"What?"

"We do have four single seats, though, and I can arrange them at the same table for you."

"Fine. I'll take them. Celeste Breen, Chairperson of the Dallas Symphony Board of Directors," the woman says as dramatically as a composition's crescendo.

"Very good, Ms. Breen. That's four tickets to Mrs. Ewing's fundraising dinner tonight, crown seating at $1,000 per plate for a total of – "

"I can add just fine, young man."

"Of course," Mark says, clearing his throat. "Well, on a final note, information on tonight's unique venue is on our website. But I'm sure you're familiar with Tail Feather Farm. I can't imagine anyone in Dallas not knowing about it."

"It's a peacock farm. What more is there?" the lady says in her deep Texas drawl.

"Oh there's much more, ma'am," Mark says. "Tail Feather is a world-renown peacock hatchery, prized not only for their vibrant feathers but for breeding the first naturally purple line of birds."

Ms. Breen gasps softly but definitely. Mark is delighted.

"That's right," he says. "Organically purple, no dyes on those feathers. Tail Feather has never opened its gates to the public and we're very pleased they're doing so for our campaign tonight. And as crown level donors, you'll have the opportunity to purchase hats, handbags and jewelry featuring the feathers at special appreciation pricing. I'm sure you realize these are items found in the most stylish boutiques of North America and Europe. It should be a very special evening."

"Indeed," Celeste Breen says.

Mark hears pride in her voice, or snobbery? He's unsure, but either one helps the campaign.

'Oh, and Ms. Breen? You did get the last four tickets so please advise your fellow patrons who express interest that the event is sold out. I hate disappointing people and I'd like to avoid their calls, if you don't mind," Mark says pulling the strings of publicity.

"Of course! Yes of course I will. I'm glad to spread the word," she says.

"Wonderful, thank you and see you at the Farm."

Mark does some silent but enthusiastic fist pumps after hanging up.

He scrolls down the list of tonight's attendees, definite A-listers of Dallas and beyond. Arts patrons, global business executives, society women, oil families, cattle men from all the ranches in the Big Five, two Union presidents, the CEO of the largest law firm in Texas specializing in immigration and the person Mark's most interested to meet, Mr. Jackson Arrow, the Wichita Indian elder who donated $100,000 online.

_Everyone's got an agenda. What's his?_

Mark admires the portfolio he's compiled with bios on all the big fish attending and press clippings of their issues. It was lots of work and he'd like to see Sue Ellen's reaction but after the things she said to him yesterday about Aubrey he hesitates to even speak to her about tonight's event. He waits until she steps out and places the binder on her desk.

* * *

John Ross shields his face against the blustering wind and dust. When he looks up at the gray clouds blocking the sun, his hat flies off and tumbles down Southfork's driveway. He chases after it but it lands upside down in a mud puddle and he leaves it, running into the house for shelter.

"I hope this damn weather calms down before Mama's deal on the farm tonight," John Ross says to JR in the den.

JR nods and swallows his bourbon. "Pretty angry out there, isn't it?" he says. "I'm glad you're goin', son. Means a lot to your mother. And me."

John Ross' smile fades as he watches JR struggle a bit to get up from his chair.

"Say Daddy, you wanna ride with me tonight? Seeing as there might be a storm coming."

JR quickens his pace to the bar, empty glass in hand.

"Why in hell is everyone trying to drive me to this goddamn farm? Y'all don't think I can handle myself anymore? It's just a simple flat drive out and I'm not afraid of a little rain."

"Relax, Dad. Sorry for caring, damn."

JR smiles tightly. "Now look son, I appreciate the thought but I'll be just fine. Besides, aren't you bringing a new gal around tonight?"

John Ross beams but tries to act annoyed. "How'd you know? You keeping tabs on me?"

"Hell yes I am," JR says, winking. "Your Mama seems fond of her. What's her name again?"

"Maxine, and she don't take shit from no one."

"Is that right?"

"Yes sir. Sound familiar?" John Ross says. "So I've warned both of you about each other. And that's all I can do."

John Ross takes a long sip of bourbon and JR chuckles. He refills his glass and holds it out to clink with John Ross.

"Here's to sassy women and the fools who love 'em," JR toasts.

* * *

Ruby sighs in disgust when the wind tousles her perfectly coiffed hair done up for Sue Ellen's event. Long silver strands break free from the French twist and whip her face.

"Damn you, hair!" she yells in the driveway waiting for Paul to bring the prized blue Cadillac around. She drops her white satin handbag on the wet grass trying to grasp the fly away strands.

"Dammit!" she shouts.

_"Help is just a phone call away,"_ the old lady's southern voice says in Ruby's head for the hundredth time.

"Oh just SHUT UP ABOUT IT! Stop pestering! Mercy," she shouts to the air as Paul opens the car door for her.

"What - "

"Don't ask," Ruby interrupts, her hair askew and her handbag blotched with grass-stained moisture.

"Miss Ruby, you look disheveled now. What Mrs. Ewing gonna think? That I roughed you up?" he says, laughing.

"Most certainly not because she knows I'd have killed you in your sleep had you laid a hand on me."

Paul's smile remains but his eyes search Ruby for a sign that she is joking. He finds none. After Officer Jensen's demise he is unsure what to make of this comment.

"You want to freshen up inside real quick?" he asks cautiously.

"No I do not. Listen, do we have one of them damn cell phones with us?"

"Cell phone? Yes, I have mine."

"Fine. Let's go and get this over with," Ruby says and throws her purse into the car with a thud.

* * *

JR sighs at his reflection. He squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest, both more hidden under his tuxedo than the last time he wore it.

_Time sure is a mean bastard._

He reaches for his cell but the monogrammed pen he stole from Sue Ellen's office last week catches his eye instead. He drops it in his pocket and fingers her name in recessed script. This is his little touchstone now he realizes with mild embarrassment; a silly replacement for her hand, a harsh reminder of what's lost.

He chooses his hat deliberately, a black suede Stetson with a thick sterling silver braid inlaid with turquoise stars. He feels ten feet taller instantly. He gives his huge silver "JR" belt buckle a final shine and heads out the door whistling "Ring of Fire" and feeling very much like the Man in Black, an outlaw poised for a gunfight.

* * *

John Ross can hardly breathe when Maxine steps out of her bedroom.

"This okay?" she asks, trying not to laugh at his bulging eyes and dropped jaw.

"Oh. Real good," he says with a dry mouth. "That gown looks custom made for you," he says, admiring her figure.

"Not bad for a borrowed dress, huh? I got some friends who go to fancy things."

"I'd have bought you your own."

"Not necessary," she says.

John Ross looks down.

"But thank you," Maxine says holding out her shawl to him.

He wraps the gold cashmere around her bare shoulders, stealing a glimpse down her ample cleavage from behind. As they pass through her front door, he offers his arm and she takes it with a bright smile.

About 20 miles down the backroads across the fields to the farm, a large oak lays split across the asphalt blocking most of their path.

"Aw dammit," John Ross says, getting out of the car. He taps his boot on the pasture beside the road to test the mud sink.

"Will we get stuck in this low flashy car?" Maxine asks. "We oughta taken a truck out here."

"Feels firm enough. I'm going around it, high speed though so hold on."

He revs his Ferrari. Maxine grabs the hand rest and before she can hold her breath, John Ross guns the car around the fallen tree with very little mud sputtering in his wake.

"Nice," Maxine says.

"Thanks. I don't let obstacles stand in my way," he says and winks.

She rolls her eyes but grins.

"Hey let me call my Daddy about that damn tree."

JR's cell phone buzzes on his dresser, unanswered.

* * *

Sue Ellen stands in front of the full-length mirror examining her outfit in the bedroom. Her gown is black silk with trademark Vivienne Westwood designs. The black satin ruched corset shines in the light and the matching bolero jacket's tiny crystals sparkle like the night sky. She turns for the rear view and slightly swishes her tight bum. Pleased, she applies lipstick in "Velvet Cognac" and drops it in her small clutch covered in little glass tiles.

As she walks downstairs a wave of heat flushes her face and fleeting dizziness makes her grab the railing. Stunned, she stops, waiting for another strange sensation but none comes. A few minutes pass and she blames it on nerves. This isn't any ordinary venue, after all. And there's a lot riding on this event with all the notable attendees.

Mark rings her doorbell right on time. Sue Ellen watches him through the peep hole for a minute. He wipes his forehead and straightens his bow tie. She has to smile. This nervous, awkward, brilliant young man has stood by the campaign, and her, without fail. She is grateful.

"Well don't you look dapper," she says.

Mark blushes. "Wow! Um, whoa. You look…stunning. I'm stunned. If you don't mind me saying. Not that I should be surprised. No disrespect - "

"Thank you," Sue Ellen says, patting his shoulder and ushering him inside. "I'm glad we're driving together. This is going to be a special evening, I can just feel it."

"Oh it sure is," Mark says, his nerves settling. "I can't believe all the important people coming, some real king makers in the crowd."

Sue Ellen winks. "I think we have the First Lady to thank for that. Everyone wants to jump on her train, it seems."

"Oh I don't know about that. I think you're making your own mark beyond Dallas with that last speech, especially," Mark says.

Sue Ellen smiles.

"Mark, I want to apologize for how I spoke to you yesterday. I didn't mean to…..I hope I didn't make you feel….I know you weren't responsible for Aubrey's death, in any way."

Mark sighs with relief as the elephant in the room walks swiftly out the door.

"It's okay," he says. "I know you were…..are…upset. It's upsetting, what happened."

Sue Ellen squeezes his arm. "Thanks for your hard work on this event. Let's enjoy it. Life is short so let's get to living."

They walk out the front door just as a big gust of wind slams it shut.

"My god!" Sue Ellen says. "If I didn't know better, I'd say mother nature is trying to make us stay home."


	39. Chapter 39

_Author's Note: Continued thanks for your reviews. I appreciate that so much. To those who asked about the lady's voice Miss Ruby hears, you were right, it is Miss Ellie still trying to help her son from the other side. Thank you for reading!_

**WARNING**: This chapter contains brief adult language.

* * *

Lucy and Boone drive all the way out to Tail Feather farm in silence.

"Look babe, I'm sorry it's late notice but the sergeant can't predict a cancellation," Boone says. "SWAT training in Odessa this weekend, one open spot. You know how long I've hoped to make the team. This is the first step. I'm lucky he offered it to me. I'd be foolish to pass on it."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "They're sending you all the way to Odessa and you're not even on the team yet? Don't make any sense to me," she says. "And another thing, why are you working security for Sue Ellen tonight when you didn't want any ties to her or her campaign because of that mess with the glove evidence?"

Boone hates himself at this moment. His wife is right and she knows it. He should have just called Candy's bluff and refused to go to the wedding with her. Whatever would've happened could not be worse than lying to Lucy. He takes a deep breath and looks her straight in the eye.

"No one's gonna see me here. I'll blend into the scenery, that's how it's done. Sue Ellen's paying me real good, Luce, and I wanna take you down to San Antonio with this paycheck. We deserve a getaway, babe, and I'm taking us with my money for once, not Ewing dollars," he says focussing on the true part of that lie.

Lucy's expression softens a little. She takes her hand off the door handle, slides over to Boone and kisses him deeply. Then lightly slaps his face.

"What's that for?" he says.

"Don't lie to me," she says.

Boone tries to hide his shock. "What am I lying about?"

"Not sure just yet," she says playfully. "But I'm gonna find out. Oh and it's still Ewing money if you think about it. Don't fight it honey. This is Dallas. You can't escape Ewing around here."

* * *

Mark and Sue Ellen can't hide their excitement in the car with all the Ewing 2013 signs lining the road as they approach the farm.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Sue Ellen says, talking a picture of the endless campaign signs with her phone.

"Sure is," Mark says. "And we're totally sold out tonight. Celeste Breen from the Dallas symphony bought the last four tickets this morning."

"Oh my, she must have told all of Dallas by now," Sue Ellen says, laughing.

They round the curve to enter the farm's gates and the crowd of protestors Harris paid to be there rush Mark's car, banging their fists on the windows and hood with loud thuds. The men and women hold signs with bible verses and hate speech against homosexuality and AIDS.

"Oh my god!" says Sue Ellen. "Who are they? What is this?"

Mark presses the electronic door lock just as a man grabs his handle and rattles it.

"Mark!" Sue Ellen says.

"I'm calling Boone, he's probably here already," he says. "I didn't get word of protestors, I don't know who they are," he says with a shaky voice.

Several in the crowd video the chaos with their cell phones. A woman walks right up to Sue Ellen's window and plasters her poster against it.

"Gays deserve AIDS. God hates you," it reads.

"Stop the car," Sue Ellen says.

"What?"

"Stop this car! I'm getting out."

"No, Sue Ellen, don't you dare. It's dangerous."

Sue Ellen is already unlocking her door. She throws it open so fast the lady and her sign jump backwards.

The rowdy crowd is surprised and silenced. Sue Ellen slams her door shut and stands in front of the protestors.

"What do you want?" she says.

The men and women look at each other, unsure how to respond to this unexpected behavior. Some begin to chant their sign slogans again.

"Stop it!" Sue Ellen shouts. "I can read your signs. You sound like robots. You came here to make a point, didn't you? Explain yourselves."

A man in faded denim overalls and a beer logo baseball cap steps forward. "We know you got AIDS. That's what you get with a loose lifestyle, being a _tramp_. You got no business running for governor of our great state. You're a disgrace and we want all these fancy people here tonight to know it," he says, coming closer. "And that's our point."

The man waves his sign in the air and the crowd chants again. Sue Ellen steps toward them and the front row moves back as if afraid to catch her disease.

"Everything you said is untrue," she says, "every sentence completely wrong."

The crowd keeps chanting.

"So are you a liar or just a fool?" Sue Ellen says.

The protesters quiet down to hear the answer.

"I ain't no liar!" the man says.

"Ah, that settles it then," Sue Ellen says.

Before he can respond she continues.

"I do not have AIDS. I have HIV. There's a difference, like having the flu instead of pneumonia. One is more serious than the other. I did not get HIV from sleeping around, not that it's any of your business. I got it from my husband, ex-husband, who was in the film industry, and slept around."

Some of the women shake their heads now.

"I have every right to run for governor, or do anything else I desire, just like you. And one of the reasons I'm running is to fight for people like me who are treated unfairly in so many ways, like this," she says gesturing to the crowd.

The man in overalls still holds his sign in the air. Sue Ellen reads it again and sighs.

"And not everyone who has AIDS is gay. Stop making judgements about people based on their health," she says. "Look at me, I'm not gay - "

"I am," Mark says loud and clear. "And that means I deserve to get sick? And if I do I don't deserve medical care? Because that's pretty much what can happen to a working person who doesn't already have insurance. And that's why I'll do whatever I can to get this lady elected."

Boone's truck comes bounding down the farm's drive and skids to a stop just inside the entrance gate, splattering mud in all directions. He jumps out as a handful of the farm's brawniest male workers pile out of the truck bed and flank him.

"Sue Ellen you better get back in the car until we handle this," Boone says.

"No. I'll stay right here until they leave," she says. "I'm not running away."

Boone shakes his head. "Well don't move from this spot so I can at least account for you if things get ugly" he says above the crowd that is shouting again.

"You're going to straight to hell you filthy homosexual!" a protestor yells at Mark.

"Maybe so," he says. "I'll worry about that when I get there but right now I'll tell you where you're going. All of you are headed for jail if you don't get off this private property in five minutes," Mark says so aggressively he thinks he might breathe fire. "And that's five minutes gay time which is really four and a half," he says. "We're always early."

Boone stares at his little brother then snaps to action.

"Disperse!" he shouts at the protestors.

One throws a bottle at him and it crashes down on his truck hood.

"Hey you bastard!" Boone says. "This here's private property and a private road you're standing on. Consider this your trespassing notification. If you refuse to leave immediately you will be arrested and charged."

The crowed quiets, still pumping their signs up and down but slowly backing away from the gate.

Boone starts to say something to Mark but he interrupts.

"Not the way I meant for you to find out," he says. "But this is me. It's always been me. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," Boone says. "How could you doubt me?"

Mark offers his hand for a shake but looks away. Boone bear hugs him instead.

"Thanks brother," Mark says. "I'll need you there to restrain Mom when I tell her."

Boone laughs. "Don't worry, she'll holler some but I'll handcuff her until she listens to reason."

In the shadows of the trees the man in the overalls lingers with his friend.

"Aren't you gonna do it? We don't get paid unless you do the paint," he says. "Remember?"

"Shut up, shut up!"

"Well? Come on with it! I didn't drive all the way down here to hear her talk that nonsense. I came to get paid."

Just as Sue Ellen starts toward the car, the man hurls a water ballon at her. It bursts on her shoulder and red paint splatters down her black dress and onto the side of her hair.

Boone turns toward her scream.

"What the hell!" he says as Mark runs to her.

Boone looks into the night. The man and his friend run to their car. The balloon thrower trips and his big body hits the dirt with a thud.

"Hey!" Boone shouts. "Dallas PD! Stop right there!"

He quickly flashes his badge, yanks the man up and handcuffs him.

"You're under arrest for assault, mother fucker."

Sue Ellen stands dripping with red by Mark's car, arms out to her side, face shocked. She looks like she's been stabbed. Mark doesn't know what to do. He removes his tuxedo jacket and uses it to wipe the paint off her face and neck as best he can.

"Oh my god," he says. "Oh my god. Are you…..oh god…..did it get in your eyes?"

She shakes her head no.

Boone shoves the handcuffed man toward them. It's the same one who made the crowd's point to Sue Ellen. The closer they come, the more he looks away from what he's done.

Sue Ellen leaves Mark's fussing and walks right up to the man.

"Why did you do this?" she says. "I thought we came to an understanding."

He thinks better of telling her about Harris Ryland.

"I dunno," he says. "It's just….it's supposed to be your dirty blood. The red, you know? Your AIDS blood. For everyone to see."

A strange smile makes deep crevices in his fat unshaven cheeks but swiftly vanishes when Boone twists the handcuffs.

"Will you please formally identify this asshole as the perpetrator for my report," Boone says to Sue Ellen "and I'll have a unit take him to jail."

"No," Sue Ellen says quietly.

"What?" Boone says.

"No," she says. "I won't press charges. Let him go."

She shakes paint off her arm. It drips from her fingers.

"Sue Ellen?" Mark says.

"I mean it," she says. "I want to educate ignorant people, not punish them. And it starts with him."

She leans toward him. His eyes are wide with something, surprise? No, fear.

"You think I'm dangerous, contagious, _dirty_," she says, "unfit for office, deserving to suffer. Well. You're only right on one account. I am contagious, just like the man who gave me this virus. But it dies with me. I won't let it take anyone else down. I control that just like fear controls you. I know the facts about my illness and I'm not afraid, of anything. Can you say the same?"

The man stays quiet. He doesn't move, even when Boone removes the handcuffs. Sue Ellen's energy captures him like a magnet.

"And that's why I'll make a good governor. I learn before I decide. I think before I speak. So when you vote next year, I hope you'll remember our talk here tonight. Because I still want your vote and I will represent you fairly and respectfully, even though you tried to humiliate me."

Boone shoves his boot tip into the back of the man's calf. "You got anything to say?"

"You're just gonna let me walk? After I done this to you?"

"You made a mistake. I've made lots of mistakes in my life and I'm not going to let you tempt me into making another one."

The paint on the front of Sue Ellen's dress has almost dried but she insists on walking up to the farmhouse instead of riding in Mark's car. He and Boone walk with her.

"Let me get Lucy to help you before the guests arrive, Sue Ellen," Boone says.

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that. Mark, I'm changing my remarks for tonight. I want to share what happened."

"I don't know, Sue Ellen. That could backfire. You want as little drama as possible leading up to the candidacy selection. You don't want to stand out from the rest like this."

"I'm Sue Ellen Ewing," she says. "I already stand out. Good or bad, let's not hide from it."

* * *

Ruby searches the crowd mingling under the big canvas tent set up for Sue Ellen's dinner, unsure what or whom she's looking for. The wind's lessened but still slaps the flaps of the roof sporadically. Each snap of the canvas makes her jump. One of the farm's free-range peacocks brushes her leg as it spreads its tail feathers in a majestic display of shimmery blues and greens.

"Good lord," Ruby says to Paul, "I can't settle my nerves at all."

She fans herself with the evening's program booklet.

"Let me get you a cool drink, Miss Ruby," Paul says, nodding to the bar.

"Cool drink? Hell no. I'll take me a brandy and warm my insides up. I feel like an icebox. My damn teeth are chattering. Wouldn't be surprised if my dental plate jumps right out of my mouth any minute."

Paul leads the way to the bar.

"What'll it be, folks, open bar," the tender says.

"Oh you gonna liquor all these people up, huh?" Ruby says. "Probably best. This tent's so thick with pretense and high-brow I'm about to be smothered. Can't hardly breathe."

The bartender looks curiously at Ruby.

"Huh. Well it _is_ the Dallas in crowd, ma'am. You ain't part of it?" he says.

Ruby snorts. "I am a member of the Lord's army, young man, and that is more prestigious than any man's mortal fortune."

Paul gently tries to pull Ruby away. She slaps his hand off her arm.

"Oh I got plenty of money," she says. "Maybe not as much as some of these fools here, but you could call me filthy rich and you would not be wrong."

The bartender raises his eyebrows and sets his pour down to listen, full attention.

"Money is the devil's drug, yes sir," she says. "Half these folks here are spiritually bankrupt, I guarantee it. So they better just live it up now 'cause they're not going to the after party, you understand what I'm saying?"

The man nods his head.

"You a believer?" she asks him.

"Hey boy!" a large man in a ten gallon hat shouts at the bar. "You servin' or talkin'?"

The bartender purses his lips.

"Nice talking with you, ma'am. Excuse me, please," he says and tends to the ten gallon hat.

Ruby shakes her head.

"Why people got to constantly pester each other I will never know," she says to Paul. "It's a wonder God don't just say to hell with all you sinners and shut the front door."

"Well I don't believe it!" the rude man at the bar says. "JR Ewing? I thought you were dead, old man! Where you been? How you doin'?"

He slaps JR on the back, spilling some of his drink on the ground.

JR and the loud man laugh and exchange insults. Ruby walks right up to them with Paul close behind, his face twisted with anxiety.

"Miss Ruby," he whispers. "Maybe don't stir up trouble with preachin' tonight? These people don't have patience for it."

Ruby doesn't even turn around.

"You're the legendary JR Ewing, huh? Well! Let me get a look atcha and see what all the fuss is about," Ruby says, eying him from boots to brim.

"I really don't see it," she says. "No offense."

JR laughs, intrigued with this feisty old woman. He tips his hat to her.

"I don't believe we've met, young lady," he says, offering his hand. "JR Ewing, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Miss Ruby Monroe. I'll spare judgement for now."

JR laughs harder and his eyes sparkle. The moment Ruby looks into them she knows the warning she's been hearing is for him and she wastes no time passing it along.

"You drive out here by yourself?" she asks.

"Uh, yes, yes I did, why?"

"You got a cell with you?"

"Cell phone?" JR taps his pocket, feeling nothing but Sue Ellen's pen. "No, seems I've left it at home. Why?"

"Take mine," Ruby says, prompting Paul to give his phone to JR. "You're gonna need it."

JR looks puzzled. Paul offers the phone.

"Please take that phone," Ruby says. "It's important you have it tonight. I'm Sue Ellen's neighbor. You can get it back to me through her, or call me tomorrow and I will fetch it myself."

JR grins knowingly.

"Beg pardon, madam, I do appreciate you're, uh, attention but, well, let me spare you the trouble. I'm spoken for, more or less," JR says, offering his most charming smile.

Ruby cocks her head. "That so? Well who's speakin' for you?"

JR's smile shrinks to a thin-lipped grin.

"I am not available, ma'am," JR says. "Now I tried to spare your feelings but – "

"Are you clownin' with me?" Ruby says, hands on hips. "Or are you really that hard in the head?"

She stands on her tiptoes and knocks her knuckles on JR's forehead.

"Well come on now, Miss….Ruby, was it?" JR says, moving out of her reach. "There's no need to be insulting about it."

"Oh yes there is," she says, sizing him up. "You're a handful, alright. No doubt in my mind. A real slick sumbitch. I can see it in your damn aura. It's two feet off your hard head, straight up and blazing blue. And you're old as hell. It should be nearly worn by now."

"My what?" JR says. "Aura? She alright?" he asks Paul. "She been tippin' the flask?" JR laughs and makes a drinking motion with his hand. "You know, some women just can't hold their liquor."

She sighs. "Listen here, JR Ewing. I really don't give a honk about you but I am compelled by forces unseen to guide you best I can."

"Guide me? What foolishness is that?"

"That foolishness is your big ego blockin' my warning like a solar eclipse of the sun. That's what that is."

JR stares at Ruby, speechless for a few seconds then puts his hat back on.

"I'm gonna blame that sass on whatever condition's got you thinkin' you have a crystal ball in your head," JR says and rolls his eyes at Paul.

"You keep a watchful eye on her, young man. I wouldn't be surprised if she flies out of here on a broom." JR chuckles and walks away.

"Last chance, Ewing. Take this phone with you or you'll be dead by sunrise," Ruby says, barely able to hear her own voice above the woman shouting in her head.

JR turns back around to face her, fixated on her blue eyes.

"You know, your eyes remind me of my Mama. Don't know why, she didn't even have blue eyes. I sure do miss her," JR says looking away. "Well I truly hope you get the help you need ma'am. Now if you'll excuse me," JR says and walks away.

Ruby shakes her head.

"Dead man walking," she says to Paul. "Well, I tried my damn best. No one can say I didn't. But there's no tellin' that man anything and that's that."

After a moment she realizes she no longer hears the woman's voice going on about the phone. Ruby has a sudden urge to weep.


	40. Chapter 40

_Author's Note: Thank you for sticking with this story! It's taken a while to get here but this is the culmination of the "Show and Tell" episode. The next chapters will be the "Hinterland" episode and the theme is fear of the unknown._

**Warning**: Brief adult language and some mature violence in this chapter.

* * *

No one checks attendees at the open gates of Tail Feather farm and Harris Ryland drives right in, just as he expected. He follows the signs to the parking area, choosing a spot in the middle of other vehicles. He cracks his heavily tinted window down a few inches and hears country music coming from the huge white tent. Ann must already be here. They're hearing the same song right now, he realizes.

She must be so edgy wondering what he's going to do and when. She knows he's out here, somewhere; it's their secret. Harris releases a little moan. He can just see her trying to play cool, but she can't stop those worried eyes from darting around like green hummingbirds looking for nectar.

_Nothing sweet here except revenge, Annie._

The band starts another song. What would she do if he cut in on Bobby as they danced? Is Sue Ellen crying over spilled paint right now? And Judith, the anti-mother, how is she holding up after their disagreement yesterday? Not well, chances are. He wishes she was in the morgue freezer instead of Aubrey. He smashes his fist on the steering wheel, accidentally blasting the horn.

"Fuck. Fuck me!" he shouts at himself. Careless mistake. He takes a deep breath. Looking around the lot, he doesn't see anyone walking near his car. Harris puts a stick of cinnamon gum in his mouth. The rhythmic chewing calms him. He reclines his seat and settles in, waiting for the guests to enter the tent and leave him to his work.

* * *

Ann holds Bobby's hand tightly as they wander around the event tent. The peacocks walking about mesmerize her. Each time a male spreads its vibrant feathers she gasps a little.

_They're just like Sue Ellen, prancing around and showing off._

She tries to turn off the bitterness in her mind. Lately it's invading every thought, stealing her joy, chipping away at her shrinking confidence.

"Bobby let's go find our table, I think they're about to serve the first course."

Bobby smiles at his wife, sensing her tension.

"You look so beautiful, honey, I just want to parade you around a little longer," he says, kissing her hand. "Come on, there's Beau Freeman from Laredo. I want to talk to him about the cattle poaching going on down there."

John Ross enters the tent with Maxine who is completely unaware of her radiance. They part the crowd walking to the bar and heads turn. Buzz begins about the girl on Dallas' most eligible bachelor's arm. One of the prized purple peacocks crosses their path. The bird considers Maxine and spreads his feathers for her. Smiling, she slowly bends down to his level. She admires him as John Ross admires her.

"Look John Ross, look at his purple feathers. You ever seen something so gorgeous?"

"Yes," he says.

Maxine misses the compliment.

"You know, my Mama used to say real beauty is felt, not seen. Bet she never saw one of these creatures. So beautiful," Maxine says as a camera flash pops, spooking the peacock away.

"Sorry folks," the photographer says. "I just had to get that shot, y'all with the purple one."

"Who are you?" John Ross says.

"Jimmy Rorbacher, photographer for Page 6, Dallas Gazette. Who's your lady friend, Mr. Ewing?"

"Maxine Mosqueda," she says before John Ross can answer.

"Ah. Well, where you from, miss? You from around here?"

"Yeah."

Jimmy turns back to John Ross, "You two….uh…close friends, or?"

"Miss Mosqueda is my date for the evening. Is that what you're asking?"

Jimmy smiles, "Yes sir. Dallas asks and Page 6 answers. May I?" he asks holding up his camera.

John Ross takes off his hat and pulls Maxine close. She squeezes his hand draped around her shoulder making him smile even more.

"Much obliged," Jimmy says, off to find his next shot.

"Good evenin', John Ross," says a tall thin blonde in a black gown emerging from a pack of similar looking young ladies but for different colored gems.

She turns her back to Maxine.

"It's Hannalyn?" she says to his blank stare. "Surely you remember? Hannalyn _Folger_? We met at my sorority holiday benefit last winter…..on my Daddy's yacht in Galveston."

Hannalyn says that last part over her shoulder to Maxine.

She holds her hand out for John Ross to kiss. He does, politely, and her reinforcements giggle.

"Oh swoon, y'all!" says one. "Hey now, let me get a picture for the DOA newsletter. Do it again!"

"D-O-A stands for Daughters..…of….the…..Alamo," Hannalyn says to Maxine slow and loud like she's hearing impaired.

"Look," Maxine says. "Y'all don't need to work so hard at showing you got more money, education and status than me. I get it. But let me tell you something, class is about more than that. A classy lady makes others feel better about themselves, not worse. A classy lady ain't threatened by anyone for any reason. And there's where I gotcha, on both accounts."

John Ross beams. The bedazzled blondes stare at Maxine open-mouthed then look to their leader.

"Well! - " she starts to say.

"Ladies, allow me to introduce my lovely and wise date, Miss Maxine Mosqueda," John Ross says and kisses her warmly on the mouth.

The other girls gasp, Maxine cuts the kiss short.

"Our best to your mother," Hannalyn says and leads her pack away. She turns around once more for another look at Maxine and shakes her head.

"That was not appropriate," Maxine says.

"What you said? I liked it. A kill shot, right between the eyes," John Ross says.

"No, what you did," Maxine says. "Kissin' me in their face? You showing off?"

"Nope. Those sassy words coming out of your mouth light me up, girl. Light me up like a Christmas tree."

John Ross comes close to her face again.

"Yeah?" she says. "Well you better unplug your cord 'cause I'm not gonna have you branding me in front of people just to make a point."

"Oh hmm hmm," he says. "See, you're doin' it again. Twinkle, twinkle. I'm all lit up."

He moves in for another kiss. This time Maxine kisses back, digging her fingers into his solid biceps.

"Hello John Ross," Elena says.

He whips around to face her.

"Oh, um, oh, wow…..Elena."

"Forgot I was coming?" she says. "Forgot _me_?"

Her eyes start watering. She wishes she hadn't come.

"I'm sorry," she says to Maxine. "I don't believe we've met - "

"Elena - " John Ross begins.

"I'm Elena Ramos, John Ross'…what? What am I, John Ross? Have you decided? It looks like you have."

She tries to laugh but it sounds like a sob. John Ross clenches his jaw.

"Elena, I'm so sorry," he says. "I handled this really badly and I'm sorry. Truth is - and this won't help matters - but Maxine here's put me in a fog ever since I met her, everything else in my world has fallen away, I'm that crazy about her."

Maxine wants to be invisible. She's is dying for Elena; the girl's heart is breaking right before her eyes. Tears spill down Elena's cheeks.

"I want that for you, too, Elena," John Ross says. "I know I've hurt you and I am truly sorry, but you're wasting your time with me. You deserve true love and I believe you'll find it."

Elena wipes her tears and looks curiously at John Ross.

"I actually believe you," she says and smiles wistfully. "Good luck, John Ross. And I hope he doesn't break your heart, too," she says to Maxine and walks away.

"You're trouble, you know that?" Maxine says. "Who's comin' at me next, boy?"

"My Daddy."

"Well John Ross," JR says, "this the little gal I'm supposed to be afraid of?"

"Yeah," Maxine says. "I cast a truth telling spell on Ewing men, apparently."

"Hooo!" JR says. "I'm shakin' in my boots. And that's the truth. Now, what's the status here? You friends? Dating? And where are your people from, honey?"

"Dad,"

"Well I'm just making conversation," JR says. "Just trying to get to know her, that's all. I'm an old man, John Ross, I don't waste time anymore."

Maxine laughs. "I think you're liabel to send death himself packing, Mr. Ewing. Seems you're used to being in charge."

JR smiles.

"As for me and your son, I let him kiss me on the mouth in front of a bunch of rich white girls who came a callin' for him just now so I'd say that makes him my date. Me and my people are Cuban. I floated over here on a raft screaming for my mama the whole way. I like animals more than people and I walk dogs for a living. I don't fear anyone but the Lord and that's all you really need to know about me right now."

JR and John Ross stare at Maxine with the same expression of surprise and amusement.

"Where did you find this unusual beautiful creature, John Ross?"

"Mama. She walks Mama's dogs."

"Well your face hasn't flinched once so I'd say we're off to a good start, Mr. Ewing," Maxine says.

"Call me JR, darlin'."

"Excuse me everyone," Mark says into a microphone. "May I have your attention please. First, a warm welcome to you all and a big thank you to Tail Feather farm for hosting this special event."

He clears his throat.

"Something unexpected happened as Sue Ellen and I arrived tonight and it's delayed her appearance, I'm afraid."

The crowd murmurs concern.

"But not to worry! She'll be out shortly and we'll begin the evening's program as planned."

The crowd breaks into applause and then gasps, growing silent. Mark turns to see Sue Ellen walking to the podium still wearing her paint-stained black dress. His mouth drops but she puts her hand to her heart as if to reassure him.

"Good evening everyone," she says. "As you can see I got an unusual greeting tonight - "

"Sue Ellen!" JR shouts as he and John Ross both stand. "Who in hell did that? We'll take care of it right now," he says. Several of the Big 5 ranch owners stand and join them. One of them holds his pistol in the air. Jimmy Rohrbacher hopes his camera holds it charge; he's snapping hundreds of shots for the Dallas Gazette.

"No!" she says. "JR, no. Please. Thank you all for your concern. The matter has been handled, but I wanted to show you what happened, to be honest with you about exactly who you are supporting here tonight. I'm a good candidate, an honest one, but a risky choice. It's important you realize that before you donate one more dollar."

She gestures at the red paint streaked across her chest and down her dress.

"Protestors at the gate did this. This is what fear looks like. This is what discrimination against illness looks like. I want you to see it. I feel it every day as do millions of others. I'm going to do my part to stop it as governor, to represent all Texans and protect life, liberty and happiness in our proud state. Voters may not be ready for me and my style of politics, but I'm not backing down. I'm coming, ready or not."

The audience erupts in applause, many stand. JR feels like Sue Ellen is a million miles away from him at this moment. She doesn't want his help, doesn't need it. Doesn't need _him_. John Ross puts his hand on JR's shoulder, sensing something. Sue Ellen goes on to delight the crowd with her campaign goals and promises. JR doesn't hear a word of it. He's time traveling in his chair, back 20, 25, 30 years to the lovely young lady with the striking eyes in the pageant dress on a stage very similar to this one.

* * *

Harris moves quickly and quietly in the dimly lit parking area. The GPS locator he put on JR's car pulses on his cell phone screen. Fifty feet, 30, 20, 10, bingo. Game on. Harris stifles a laugh. He's not felt this much glee since….when? Ever? Never mind. Back on task. He inserts the rubber hose attached to the funnel into JR's exhaust pipe and easily pushes it in deep. He pours the motor oil into the funnel, emptying the entire jug, thickly coating the pipe with the flammable substance. Next he empties the radiator of nearly all its water and fills it with gasoline instead. There. Much better.

He gathers his tools and in the darkness of his own car again fights the urge to walk inside and watch Ann. She must be out of her mind with anticipation right now, imagine the sex they could have with all this combustible energy. He does imagine it for a few moments and regrets it instantly, trying to deny himself his release.

_Don't be careless here, like a giddy woman._

He types " :) " and sends the text to Ann then drives off the farm into the black night. Back in Dallas, he turns off the highway and into the morgue parking lot. It's 10 pm and the lights are off. He slowly rolls into a parking spot close to the building and turns off his car. He sits completely still for a few moments then looks to the entrance and sighs.

"That bastard's gonna burn tonight, honey. Aubrey? Baby girl? Can you hear me? I know you're here. Daddy's here with you now. And I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry," he says to the body he cannot claim.

He says his goodbyes in the car for nearly an hour and leaves the parking lot feeling like a coward in a Superman suit.

* * *

Ann stares at the smiley face text from Harris then stares at JR sitting across the table from her chatting with Maxine.

"Everything okay, honey?" Bobby asks smiling at her.

"I think so. Yes. Sure! It's been a lovely evening, hasn't it? I mean, aside from the whole paint deal, of course."

Bobby admires his wife, grateful she's endured the event with very little protest. "Right," he says, shaking his head. "Let's hope there will be no more surprises like that."

Ann silences her cell and drops it in her purse.

JR watches Sue Ellen work the room. She's winning votes with every handshake, stealing hearts with every smile.

_You're a fool, JR Ewing. You're a king without a kingdom. And you've lost your queen._

JR shakes his head and pushes the melancholy back with a swig of bourbon. Time to say goodnight.

"John Ross, Maxine, I believe this is it for me. Y'all have a nice evening. I'm heading back after I say goodnight to Sue Ellen," he says, getting up from their table.

When he turns around, a tall man dressed in black western clothes is talking to Sue Ellen. He towers over her, putting him at 6'5" minimum. His black hat is studded with big silver medallions, the fringe along the arms and across the back of his long suede coat is beaded with more silver and his black snakeskin boots are tipped with silver arrowheads. And, are those _spurs_?

"Well, the mysterious Mr. Jackson Arrow," Sue Ellen says. "We finally meet. It's a pleasure."

He grins and removes his hat. His thick black braid reaches halfway down his back.

"Pleasure's all mine, madam. I'm truly sorry for what happened to you earlier. Fear is the white man's strongest enemy. And it breaks a weak man's back with just a whisper."

"The white man?" Sue Ellen says.

He nods. "I'm here for the Red Nation, Mrs. Ewing."

Sue Ellen's eyes widen and she wonders about this man's mental state. She looks around for Boone.

"I'm Wichita, but I represent many elders, my brothers in other tribes. Our donation was a good faith gesture we hope you'll return. We would like to speak with you about our people's welfare."

"Oh, yes, that was a very generous cash donation Mr. Arrow and I do thank you, but I'm not sure I follow. You're a sovereign nation, what does the governor's office mean to you?"

"Not the governor's office, you personally, as governor. Young Indian men are becoming alcoholics at a staggering rate. They don't work, they don't have to. Casino revenue pays more, much more than an honest day's work. So they're idle and they turn to liquor because they're bored. It's a disaster and we want to stop it."

"Stop the revenue?"

"Not completely, no. We want different regulations, conditions instated, if you will."

"Well I still don't see how the governorship can impose law on your nation."

"There's a way. Our tribes are greatly divided over this but the elders have agreed something must be done. And we need your help to do it. Will you talk further with us? I assure you our donations will continue if there is reason to hope."

Mark is across the room, unavailable for consult. Sue Ellen looks into this man's face. She sees honor and strength in his eyes and is drawn to him. Now she questions her own clarity.

"Yes," she says suddenly. "I'll talk with your tribe about this. I'm honored to."

"I knew you would listen," he says. "You understand the demon of alcohol and you've slayed it. I'm grateful to you."

_That's just about long enough_, JR thinks, waiting for the tall man to leave Sue Ellen's side. He strides up to them.

"JR Ewing," he says, offering Arrow his hand.

"Oh, JR," Sue Ellen says. "Meet Mr. Jackson Arrow."

"My friends call me Blackjack," he says to Sue Ellen.

"Blackjack?" JR says, laughing. "That sounds straight out of the movies. You some kind of cowboy actor or something?"

"JR!" Sue Ellen says.

Arrow laughs also.

"Cowboy? No, although I admired your John Wayne," he says.

JR eyes him up and down.

"Sue Ellen, here you go honey. Keys to my cottage," JR says, his kiss landing on Sue Ellen's cheek as she turns her head.

"JR!" she says again.

"Well I told you I was gonna give those to you, don't fuss."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, both of you," Arrow says. "I'll be in touch, Sue Ellen. Goodnight."

JR and Sue Ellen watch him walk away.

"Who in the hell is he and what's he gonna be in touch for?" JR says.

"I told you, Jackson Arrow - "

"Well he thinks he's Johnny Cash, or some cowboy - "

"He's an Indian, JR, Wichita if you must know."

"Yes I must. What's an Indian doing at a governor dinner on a peacock farm? This is all very suspicious, Sue Ellen. I suggest you - "

"I suggest you butt out of my business and say goodnight, young man. Throwing those keys at me like that. If I didn't know better, I'd think you're jealous of my new friend," Sue Ellen says.

"Jealous! You've lost your mind woman. Some of those paint fumes go up in your head? I'll tell you something though, you sure attract some strange characters."

"What do you mean?"

"That crazed neighbor of yours, Ruby? She damn near forced herself on me, trying to give me her cell phone - "

"What? Why would she give you her phone?"

"Well that's what I'm trying to tell you Sue Ellen! She was flirtin' with me, come on now, you may find it hard to believe that I caught her eye but that's exactly what happened. She asked me if I had my phone, I do not, and she insisted I take hers. Get it back to her tomorrow, by way of lunch or dinner I imagine."

"Oh you are unbelievable, you know that? She was not flirting with you. She…..knows things - "

"Yeah, yeah I heard all about it. She told me I'd be dead by sunrise if I didn't take that damn phone. What kind of nonsense - "

Sue Ellen puts her hands to her mouth.

"JR, JR you listen to me. You take my phone with you and you don't say another word about it, you hear? Ruby is not crazy and she was not flirting, you foolish man. She was trying to save your life," Sue Ellen's voice cracks. "I mean it. You take my phone or I will never speak to you again."

JR blinks at the site in front of him. "Well alright honey, just settle down now. I'll take the goddamn phone if that's what you want."

"Yes, it is," Sue Ellen says. "What I really want is for you to drive home with Mark and I to make sure you'll be alright."

"Oh now that's it. That's really it. I am not some bumbling old man who needs tending to, Sue Ellen. You just stop that right now. Bet you'd like your Mr. Blackjack to take _you_ home - "

Sue Ellen slaps JR across the face.

"Why can't you just accept love?" she says near tears. "Why can't you just give love back instead of this….this…."

Some of the lingering guests watch them now.

JR looks around the room, embarrassed. He takes Sue Ellen's hands, kisses them and turns to go. She turns him by the shoulder and kisses him softly on the lips, then brushes her hand against the red welt forming on his cheek.

"I love you, JR Ewing."

He smiles and walks away before she can see his pain.

Outside the cold air stings his face. He walks slowly but steadily to his car. Before getting in, he looks up to the starry sky.

"Did you see that, Mama? Sue Ellen's still slapping me around. Bet you and Daddy are shaking your heads right now. I know, I know, I took that girl for granted. I surely did."

A horse neighs off in the not too far distance. Jackson Arrow stands smoking a cigarette beside a Palomino under a grand saddle. The man's smoke swirls above him in the night air and JR can't help but think of an Indian smoke stack. And then it hits him, this man rode a horse up here?

"Farewell Mr. Ewing," he shouts, spooking JR who thought he was unseen.

JR tips his hat and gets in his car. _Farewell_?

He calls Bum on Sue Ellen's cell.

"Hello Bum, say find out what you can about some tall fella calls himself Jackson Arrow."

"Oh? What's he up to?"

"Well that's what I'd like to know. He's sniffin' around Sue Ellen and I want to know why."

Bum rolls his eyes.

"Maybe he's just interested in her. She's still a fine looking woman, JR - "

"Listen, the man dresses like Johnny Cash and road a goddamn horse all the way up here to Tail Feather farm. Saddle must have 15, 20 pounds of silver on it. Says he's an Indian or some such nonsense. He's out in the lot right now sending smoke signals. Just find out what you can."

"Will do, JR. Goodnight then."

JR erases the call from Sue Ellen's phone log and sighs. It's been a long day and the evening has not ended as he'd hoped.

_Time for a drink and the pillow._

He starts his car and taps the pen in his pocket.

"Goodnight, Sue Ellen. You shine brighter than any of these stars in the sky."

JR starts down the drive and just before exiting the gates a purple peacock stops right in his path, spreading his tail feathers in the shine of headlights.

"Okay, okay I see you. You sure are pretty, young man. Now come on, move along," he says and honks his horn lightly.

The bird reluctantly scoots over and JR drives into the night. A few miles down the dark backroad, the car's cabin feels warm. He holds his hand to his forehead and opens his window.

_What's that smell?_

A few more miles further and his car lurches when shifting gears.

"Oh what the hell. I just got you tuned."

He speeds up on the open road. The car violently shifts this time and he smells something burning outside. He looks left and right but sees nothing but darkness. An alarm dings on the dashboard, the engine temperature gauge is in the red. Something suddenly lights the road up behind him. Are those _flames_ in his rear view mirror? Before he can react, a giant fireball explodes out of the exhaust pipe as the oil ignites all the way down deep in the undercarriage. The car engulfs in bright orange flames shooting up and over the sides. JR skids off the road, losing control of the burning car. It slides on the muddy pasture as momentum propels it over a deep irrigation ditch. It flips midair and crashes down on the driver's side, still burning out of the hood.

JR screams from sharp pain to his face and back. The flames now lick the cracking windshield and the heat blisters his face. Nearly upside down, he tries to find his jacket pocket and fumbles for the phone. Sue Ellen's pen falls out and clinks against the window. His arm gets tangled in the seatbelt. Loud whistles and pops burst all over the car as steel and electrical wires twist and melt. JR's body fights every breath he takes. His chest feels caved in against the steering wheel.

"Dallas Police 911, what is your emergency?" the lady says.

"Help me! I'm on fire! - "

"Are you in a house or vehicle sir?"

"Car! I'm in my car! It's on fire! It's crashed, I'm upside down goddammit!"

"Where are you?"

"Oh god it's so hot - "

"Sir, please, what's your location?"

"Oh it's burning up everywhere - "

"Your location sir!"

"Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. I can't breathe. I'm not gonna make it - "

"Sir - "

"You tell Sue Ellen I love her, you do that for me, you hear? Sue Ellen Ewing, the love of my life - "

"Yes, Sue Ellen Ewing. I'll tell her. Better yet you tell her yourself, honey. NOW WHAT IS YOUR LOCATION?"

"I'm….. about 15 minutes out from…Tail Feather farm…."

JR's sight blurs and he closes his eyes. He wants to sleep.

"North or south? …..SIR!"

"Uh…south….goin' home….to Southfork…"

"Sir you stay with me now, help is on the way…Sir? …..SIR!"


	41. Hinterland Chapter 41

_**Author's note**__: Thanks very much for the reviews. The concern for JR is touching. We love our magnificent bastard, don't we? This is the first of several chapters in the "Hinterland" episode. I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

The event tent is nearly empty. Bobby and Ann get up from their table, preparing to leave.

"I believe we'll say goodnight, John Ross," Bobby says. "Maxine, it was a pleasure meeting you honey. Y'all drive home safely."

He kisses Maxine goodnight. Ann looks at her watch, then checks her cell.

"You expecting a call, Annie?" Bobby says.

"From whom?"

"How would I know?"

"No. I'm not. I was just checking the weather app. For our drive," Ann says.

"Ah. Well how's it look?"

"Fine. Good. Better than earlier," Ann says wanting to stuff a sock in Bobby's mouth.

_Why does he question me so much? Does he suspect something? No. How could he? Does he?_

"Honey let's go say goodnight to Sue Ellen," Bobby says.

Ann lets an eye roll escape.

"Oh come on, Annie. We can't just disappear, it would be rude."

Bobby leads Ann with his hand in the small of her back. Someone's cell phone rings and he feels her jump. She looks away from him.

_Please let us be gone from here before the call comes in_, Ann thinks, not wanting to feign surprise in front of the whole family.

"Sue Ellen," Bobby says, kissing her cheek, "it's been a wonderful evening. We're so proud of you, aren't we Annie?"

"So proud."

"Thank you so much," Sue Ellen says. "It meant the world to have you here with me, both of you."

She offers Ann a hug. Bobby's hand still on Ann's back pushes her gently to Sue Ellen.

"My, look at you," Ann says coming out of their quick embrace, "all this red paint. You look like Jackie Kennedy the day her husband was killed."

She instantly regrets it.

"Ann! That's awfully morbid," Bobby says.

Sue Ellen regards Ann curiously.

"I hadn't thought about that," she says. "I suppose it's similar, only in appearance, thank goodness. But Lord knows there were many days when I wished JR ill will, isn't that right Bobby?"

Sue Ellen winks at him. Ann could slap herself for saying something so careless. Bobby kisses Sue Ellen again. Ann pulls him away. He squeezes Sue Ellen's hand as they go.

"Well goodnight," Ann says too quickly.

"Proud of you Sue Ellen!" Bobby says over his shoulder, leaving Sue Ellen standing alone on the dance floor. She watches him walk away until he and Ann are gone.

About 10 miles away from the farm, Bobby and Ann approach flashing red and blue lights on the road. Two police cruisers block their path. An officer blinks his flashlight at them and Bobby rolls down the window.

"Slow approach, folks. Bad accident here tonight," the cop says. "Be real careful as you pass. There's lots of fire foam on the road. Some poor fella was set ablaze in his vehicle."

"Set ablaze?" Ann says. "You mean someone lit him on fire?"

Bobby's head turns back and forth from the officer to Ann.

"Ma'am?" the officer asks.

"Well you said 'set ablaze', so,"

"What does it matter?" Bobby says. "Look at that car, what's left of it. Someone obviously died out here tonight, poor soul."

The car is still on its side, charred undercarriage facing the road. The black paint is burned completely off the hood which curls toward the smashed windshield like a hideous wave. Two fire rigs flank the roadside. One firefighter still holds his hose on the back of the car, curls of steam rising in the cool air as water hits the scorched trunk. As Bobby slowly drives past, Ann sees "NG 1" remaining on the burned license plate.

_My god, he actually did it? He did it._

"Damn, what an awful way to go," Bobby says, "trapped like that, on fire. I wonder what happened. Probably hit a tree, or maybe a deer, and lost control."

"Bobby! Don't think about it."

"Well you're the one asking questions back there. I'm just curious, too, that's all. Cars don't burst into flames for no reason."

Those last words echo in Ann's ears. Suddenly she panics. There will be an investigation, of course there will. One of those fire experts she's seen on TV will turn the car inside out until they determine what happened. What did happen? She hopes Harris was smart enough to get away with….._murder_.

She takes a deep breath, feeling better the farther they drive away from the smoldering wreck. There. It's finished. The threat to her home and marriage has been removed forever and her secret past will be buried along with him. She smiles and sighs contently, unaware Bobby is staring at her.

* * *

The ER's bright white light glares on JR's broken body. The trauma team moves with quick precision around him, tubes go in, bags hung, machines turned on and beeping.

"Intubating now," says the ER doctor, pushing the clear tube all the way down JR's throat.

She hits resistance.

"No good," she says. "Lots of inflammation here from the smoke. Let's try again."

The heart monitor beeps dangerously slow, setting off an alarm.

"80 over 40," a nurse shouts. "Dropping! 60 over….Coding!"

"I'm in," the doctor says, removing the tube guide with a high pitched whir. Another nurse regulates the ventilator.

"Hold the panels!" the doctor says.

A nurse stands by with lubricated defibrillator panels inches from JR's badly bruised chest. The heart monitor still flatlines after several breaths by the respirator.

"Shock him," the doctor says.

"Clear!"

JR's body arches upward from the electrical charge.

"Flatline"

The defib machine screams a shrill beep, charging for the next shock.

"Clear!"

Again JR's back arches off the gurney. His silver monogrammed belt buckle slides off the table and clatters on the floor. A nurse kicks it aside.

"One more," the doctor says over the defib's whining charge.

"Clear!"

JR contorts for several seconds with this highest charge, then flops back onto the gurney.

"Systole," the nurse says as the heart monitor beeps slow and irregular.

"Push the bolus now and watch the vent gasses. He has moderate smoke inhalation. At least we got the tube in before he closed up on us."

"Doctor, they're ready for the CAT scan."

"Go! Go! And make sure they keep the backboard under him. I'm almost sure we've got a compression fracture here."

"I'm going to call the family now, doctor," says the nurse.

"Good. Get them down here. I won't talk to them on the phone. I doubt he'll survive the night. Let's try to give them a chance to say goodbye."

The nurse nods. "JR Ewing. Don't seem real seeing him all broken on that bed. He's larger than life around here, beyond here," she says.

"In the end we're all the same," the doctor says, "we all bleed and break. Life's fragile, pain's blind, doesn't matter who you are. Page me when the family's here."

* * *

John Ross and Maxine search the event tent for any overlooked items that should go home with Sue Ellen and Mark. The cleaning crew plays country music on the sound system. Boone and Lucy slow dance. Sue Ellen and Mark discuss the evening's developments at a table by the stage.

"Well we had a strange start but I'd say it turned out to be a perfect evening," Sue Ellen says.

"Couldn't have gone better," Mark says. "Pulled in over $300,000 with tonight's proceeds and you made a real impression on everyone. I'll be scheduling you for some events soon. We got several interesting invitations from some of the heavy hitters tonight."

"Really?" Sue Ellen says, smiling. "Well I'm open to just about anything. You never know what might happen. In fact I was asked to speak with a Wichita tribe - "

"Mama!" John Ross yells from across the tent, running to her, cell phone in hand.

Sue Ellen stands up, "John Ross?"

His face is flushed, he takes her hand.

"Mama - "

"No. No!"

"Sit down, Mama, please - "

Maxine takes Sue Ellen's other hand.

"It's JR isn't it? ...I told him….I shouldn't have let him go…..is he - "

"Daddy had an accident driving home. He's in ICU at Dallas General and we have to go now, right now, Mama," John Ross says as tears spill out of his eyes.

"Oh no," Mark says.

Sue Ellen feels like she's fallen through the floor. John Ross' voice echoes in her ears. She feels Maxine leading her away from the table but she resists. Lucy hugs John Ross and Boone runs for the car.

"No! I don't want this happening, this can't happen," she says, shaking.

"It's already happened Mama, and we need to go. We need to be there with him right now," John Ross says regaining his calm.

He leads her firmly away by the waist. Maxine holds tight to John Ross' other hand. It feels like a lifeline to him. Maxine doesn't say anything but she is praying silently. Sue Ellen stops walking.

"I slapped him, John Ross, we fought right before he left and I slapped his face," Sue Ellen cries.

"It's alright, chances are he deserved it," John Ross forces a laugh. "Let's just get over there now and be with him."

"Y'all take our truck," Boone says. "You can't all three fit in John Ross' car. Me and Lucy will drive it behind you. Don't speed down this slick road, John Ross, you hear?"

John Ross nods, helping Sue Ellen and Maxine into the truck. He speeds off into the night. Boone and Lucy try to keep up with him.

* * *

Ann is locked in the downstairs bathroom practicing sad expressions in the mirror. She doesn't know exactly what to do with her face or what to say when the call comes about JR. She wishes she were a better liar. Bobby has a sharp truth radar and it's been pinging lately, she thinks.

She puts a kettle on for tea and looks out the window at the trees in the night. Their branches barely sway. Even the weather's calmed now that JR is no more. Is he watching her right now, from wherever he is? She looks behind her, feeling foolish. Her skin suddenly chills.

The kettle whistles, steam blasting out of the spout.

"Ann! Annie!" Bobby shouts bounding down the stairs.

_Here we go._

"What? What is it?"

"JR! He's hurt. He's crashed," Bobby says, breathless.

"What?"

"Come on! We have to get to the hospital, right now."

Ann freezes.

"Annie! Please, hurry. They told me to hurry."

"Is he…._alive_?" Ann says, her eyes wild.

"Yes, for now. That's all they'd tell John Ross. Oh god, GOD, that burned out car we saw off the road? No! Not my brother, not like this," Bobby's voice breaks.

He leans on the doorframe for support. "Annie, how could he have made it out of that wreck?"

"He's JR Ewing," Ann says without emotion. "He won't go down without a fight."

She takes the kettle off the stove. Bobby tosses her a coat.

"Let's go," he says. "Let's go now."

"Here, let me drive Bobby. You're in no condition."

Bobby looks out his window in silence. Ann touches his face and he leans his head into her hand.

"I've dreaded this day my whole life," he whispers. "Things aren't perfect between JR and me but they're better. They're better and now he's gonna leave me before we can get it right."

Bobby doesn't sound like her husband right now. He sounds like JR's baby brother and it brings Ann to tears. She squeezes his hand.

"Annie why are you driving so slow? Go faster, please. I won't forgive myself if I miss him. Hurry up honey, there's no one on this road."

Ann slowly steps on the gas, afraid of what lies ahead.

* * *

Out on the backroad under the blaring headlights of the emergency response vehicles, the police officer in charge of the crash scene bends down to examine the car's exhaust pipe. The opening is nearly melted shut. He runs his rubber glove along the edge and smells the residue.

"Cancel the tow!" he yells to his partner. "This car ain't going anywhere. Call the arson investigator out. I'm declaring this a crime scene."


	42. Chapter 42

Worried Ewing faces look at the ER doctor entering the grief room followed by two more physicians.

"Folks, I'm Doctor McHale," she says. "I'm sorry about what's happened tonight. Doctors Sherridan, Chen and I will explain where things stand right now and then you'll have to make some hard choices."

Sue Ellen gasps. Everyone sits perfectly still in the old mauve vinyl chairs except Ann who stands behind them, drinking a bottled water. She fans herself with a pamphlet on strokes. Her forehead glistens with moisture.

Some nurses in cartoon scrubs walk down the hall, their laughter rattling the somber mood in the room. Dr. McHale closes the door.

"What happened to him?" Sue Ellen asks. "Is he conscious?"

"Who is John Ross, Mr. Ewing's son?" says Dr. McHale.

"Right here. Me," John Ross stands up.

"Please, sit down," she says with a kind smile.

He doesn't. Maxine stands up beside him.

"Are you okay with everyone here listening to an account of your father's injuries?"

"Yes. We're family. Everyone here is family."

The doctors roll stools over and sit down. John Ross and Maxine do too.

"I was the attending in the ER when Mr. Ewing arrived and I took care of him myself," McHale says. "When we triage patients, we prioritize heart, blood, brain and bones. In your father's case, he has serious issues with all four."

Bobby covers his face with his hands. Tears run down Sue Ellen's cheeks but she doesn't make a sound. Christopher and Lucy lay hands on John Ross' shoulders and Maxine grips his hand.

Ann's cell phone rings. Startled, she spills water down Bobby's back.

"Annie!" he says.

"I'm sorry! Honey, sorry…..let me just…."

The phone keeps ringing.

"Ma'am, no cell phones in here," the doctor says.

"I can't turn it…..I'm sorry…." Ann says and leaves the room.

Bobby sighs. "Continue, please."

"JR was trapped in a burning car for at least 10 minutes estimating the time from his 911 call to rescue," she says.

Sue Ellen closes her eyes at the mention of the phone call.

"His windpipe and lungs were damaged from the smoke so we intubated him to help him breathe."

"So he's breathing then," Bobby says.

"Yes, he's breathing, with the help of a machine. This brings other issues into play but that's not important right now."

"You said 'brain'," John Ross says. "Does he have….brain damage?"

"I'm your dad's neurologist tonight," Dr. Sherridan says. "Because he wasn't able to breathe, his heart failed and his brain didn't get oxygen for intermittent periods of time – "

"Please," John Ross says, "just what's the result? What's happened to him?"

"He may have sustained brain damage, we don't know and we won't for some time."

"Oh my god," Sue Ellen says. "This can't be happening."

"But it's possible his brain isn't damaged, right?" Maxine says.

"It's possible, but not likely."

Sue Ellen leans into Bobby and he hugs her. Boone and Lucy embrace.

"Where's Ann?" Boone whispers to Lucy.

She shrugs.

"I want to see my Dad," John Ross says. "Where is he?"

"You'll be able to see him shortly," Sherridan says, "but – "

"I'll see him right now! Where is he? Where's my Daddy?" John Ross shouts.

"John Ross!" Sue Ellen says.

She and Maxine pull him back down to the chair.

"I know this is a lot to process," McHale says. "I understand you want to see him but listening to what we explain and making the best decisions will help him a lot more that sitting at his bedside right now, son."

John Ross feels powerless. He doesn't know what to do with this rage boiling hotter in him with every blow the doctors deliver.

"Where the fuck is Ann!" John Ross says. "Who in hell is she talking to?"

"Mr. Ewing, please," Dr. Chen says. "Let's focus on your Dad. I'm his cardiologist and I have some good news for you."

"Thank god," Bobby says.

"JR's heart was deprived of oxygen and took quite a beating, forgive the pun," he says.

No one laughs.

"Yes, well, his heart is stable now, no irregular heartbeat for a while and it's functioning at nearly 75%, which is good for a man his age."

"So what's that leave us with?" John Ross says. "My Daddy on a vent with unknown brain function and a strong heart? So he's an organ donor? Is that what you're saying? Is that the conversation we're having?"

"John Ross," Sue Ellen says, drying her eyes, "let the doctors talk. Step outside if you don't want to hear anymore."

"No, we're not asking about organ donation," McHale says. "The truth is we won't know the extent of his injuries for the next 24 to 48 hours. The next eight hours are critical. We'll see if his body can sustain not only the trauma of the accident but the stress of all the medication and procedures also."

"Procedures?" Sue Ellen says.

There's a knock at the door and yet another doctor comes in. He nods at the family and sets a model of a kidney on the table.

"Folks this is Dr. Patel, JR's nephrologist," Dr. McHale says.

"Daddy's what?"

"Kidney doctor," Bobby says, his head in his hands again.

"Yes. Very good. Let's talk about kidney," Patel says. "Patient's kidneys - "

"His name's JR, JR Ewing," John Ross says.

"Right. Very good," Patel says. "Patient's kidneys were badly bruised in accident. Very badly bruised. Damage may heal, may not. We will see."

"What?" Bobby says. "Are you saying his kidneys aren't working?"

"Right. Not working good. Barely working. Healthy kidneys working this much," Patel says holding his hands apart about 12 inches, "and patient's kidneys working this much right now," he says, his fingers a few inches apart.

John Ross slaps the model kidney off the table.

"Stop," Maxine says, picking it up. "You need to face the fear, John Ross. Stop fighting it with anger. You beat it by keeping on, by moving forward and doing what needs to be done for your Daddy. Your family's here to help you, and so am I. If y'all will excuse me, I'm going to the chapel for a little while."

Patel continues, pointing to different areas on his plastic kidney and explaining why JR's aren't working well.

"So," he says after the short demonstration, "we have insert subclavian access point and we dialyze this afternoon."

"What?" Bobby says again. "Dialysis? Hemodialysis?"

"Right. Machine needs to cleaning the blood when patient's kidneys cannot. Maybe not permanent. When swelling is going down we will see."

"Prepare yourselves for seeing JR," Dr. McHale says, "there are tubes and lines on him, a ventilator that makes loud noises and an access port right under his clavicle for emergency dialysis like Dr. Patel said. And he's also badly bruised. His face was singed from the fire heat so there is some blistering on the skin."

The family is speechless, staring at the doctors and then at each other.

"You said earlier we'd have to make hard choices," Sue Ellen says softly.

"Yes, yes I did," McHale says. "I really don't mean to overwhelm you, but it's best you know what your family may be faced with. If JR's kidneys don't recover, he will need dialysis permanently or he will die. Dialysis is very stressful on the body and JR is not a young man. His age puts him very low on the transplant list, I'm afraid, making his best option a private donor."

"Like one of us," Bobby says.

"Like one of you."

"I'll do it," John Ross says. "Daddy can have one of my kidneys, hell he and Mama made both of mine," he says, fighting his tears.

Sue Ellen breaks down at hearing his offer and Bobby holds her tight.

"That's very loving of you, John Ross," McHale says. "The challenge is finding a kidney that matches your father's blood and tissue type. Chances are greater with blood relatives, but not always, I must warn you. There's no guarantee of compatibility."

"How do we find out?" John Ross says.

"Tests. Simple tests."

"I want to be tested too," Bobby says.

Everyone but Sue Ellen voices agreement, even Boone. Bobby takes Sue Ellen's hand.

"I'll have my nurse schedule you all for testing," McHale says. "Now follow me, two at a time, and I'll take you to your Dad but he's heavily sedated."

* * *

It's nearly four in the morning but time stands still in the ER waiting room at Dallas General Hospital. John Ross and Maxine steal some restless sleep leaning on each other across the hard wooden chairs. Christopher researches kidney failure nonstop on his tablet, Lucy dozes on Boone's lap but startles awake with every sound, Ann reads a magazine.

Bobby and Sue Ellen sit along each side of JR's bed, she holds his hand, careful of the IV ports and gauze. His hand feels heavy in hers, she squeezes it now and then but he does not respond. The wall clock ticks, the heart monitor beeps, the ventilator whooshes, a patient moans down the hall.

Sue Ellen wants to turn back time. If only she'd insisted he drive home with her. If only –

"What are you thinking about?" Bobby says, smiling softly at her.

She shakes her head. "Unpleasant thoughts."

"Tell me," he says.

After a few moments she continues. "Do you ever feel like the timing is just always off? With JR, I mean."

Bobby stays quiet.

"It's just, he and I….we feel, felt, the same way about each other at different times. But sometimes, some very good times, we're in synch, and then our gears change and one of us falls away again. You know?" she says, sniffling.

"I do know," he says, moving his chair next to hers. "I was just telling Ann that JR and I were coming to a good place as brothers lately. And now look what's happened. Another gear change, like you said."

"But as for you and JR," Bobby says, "I know he hasn't been back home that long but it's like you never left his life, Sue Ellen, never left his heart. He still loves you, he always will."

"No, not like before," she says. "He loves family, the idea of it, the strength, the traditions and I'm part of that. But he's not in love with me."

"How do you know?"

"I told him I loved him tonight before he left and he didn't say it back. He just turned and walked away, left me standing there alone, again."

Bobby takes Sue Ellen's hands.

"This may come as a surprise to you, but my brother is a difficult, contrary man. I'd be suspicious if he'd said it back, to be honest. The fact he didn't means he does."

"Sue Ellen, you come home to Southfork with us," Bobby says. "You'll stay in JR's room for now, close to us, not cast out in the cottage. We need to help each other through this and we should all be together. We're stronger that way, as a family, and we can help JR recover sooner. I know we can."

Ann's fists clench as she listens outside JR's door.

_No. No. NO. Will this ever end? I do not want her in my house, leaning on my husband, eclipsing me, invading my life._

Ann turns and walks swiftly down hall. She passes Christopher coming out of the restroom.

"Where are you going?" he says.

"Fresh air. I'll be back soon."

The ventilator roars into Bobby and Sue Ellen's quiet conversation, calibrating itself with a series of beeps and whirs.

Sue Ellen looks at this intruder, this metal box breathing for JR. How can his life be whittled down to this, a breathing box plugged into the wall? His larger than life persona is shrunken into the confines of this room. He'd hate it. Perhaps he already does. Has he decided to go?

A wave of grief smothers Sue Ellen and she chokes back a sob.

"Sue Ellen?" Bobby says, "are you alright? Let me get you some water."

"No, no I'm fine," she says, clearly not.

Bobby opens his arms to her but she puts her hands over her face and stays in her chair. He kneels down and pulls her into him. She doesn't resist, leaning into his chest and stifling her sobs on his shoulder.

"He'll pull through, you'll see," Bobby says.

"I don't think so," she says, "I already feel him leaving," she cries. "I feel him slipping away from here with every passing minute. And it will kill John Ross. It'll kill our son if JR dies before John Ross believes he's proud of him. I don't want that for him. I don't want him chasing his father's ghost the way JR does Jock."

"Mama, Uncle Bobby," John Ross says in the doorway.

Sue Ellen wipes her tears.

"I just got a call from an arson investigator. Dallas PD is treating this as a crime. It wasn't no accident."

* * *

Ann slams the door of her Land Rover and marches up Southfork's back driveway. Once inside she exhales in the dark, quiet kitchen, relishing the solitude and silence after so many hours in the ER chaos. Her relief doesn't last long; Bobby and Sue Ellen's conversation starts replaying in her mind.

_The way he holds her, the way she lets him? I won't sit back and let that into my own house._

She puts the tea kettle on the stove. The blue flames heating it catch her eye as she broods over Sue Ellen crying to Bobby about JR not saying he loves her. Sue Ellen's already coming to stay for a while under those circumstances. What if she knew the truth about how JR feels about her? She'll never leave, even after he's dead, she'll stay on here as part of the _family_. God. If Ann has to look at those big doe eyes full of grief for JR every day and batting at Bobby she'll go mad. Absolutely mad.

_You're not charming your way into Bobby's heart or my home this time. This time you lose, Miss Texas._

Ann piles fresh wood into the fireplace and lights it. She stokes the kindling as it begins burning bright blue and orange. Once the flames lap at the chimney bricks, she walks quickly upstairs.

JR's room is almost peaceful without him in it. There's still an ominous energy looming, but that will evaporate soon along with his miserable spirit leaving the Earth. Maybe she will make this into a sewing room. Something buzzes on JR's dresser.

Bum's ugly face displays on JR's cell as the call comes in. Wouldn't he be shocked if Ann answered. She waits for it to go to voicemail, hoping JR doesn't have a screen lock password. The little message icon appears. She swipes the screen, a picture of Southfork. Password-protected.

"Dammit!" she shouts and throws the phone on the bed. It bounces off the mattress and splats on the hardwood floor, a long diagonal crack on the screen. Ann glares at it then takes a deep breath. She places the broken phone back on the dresser like she found it.

She kneels down and peers under the bed. Just seeing the tin of love letters brings tears to her eyes and she curses herself for being so weak.

_Don't be stupid. Why am I crying for these two selfish people who want to rule my home, steal my life?_

She bangs her fists on the floor and rests her head on it, the cool wooden planks soothing her flushed and sweaty face. She lays there like that for nearly 10 minutes.

Ann finally turns her head and sees the barrel of JR's rifle under his bed. That's exactly how it felt when he dangled her past in front of her the other day, like she was staring down a loaded gun. How he loved taunting her, speaking in riddles, mentioning her "page 89".

Something switches off in Ann's mind remembering that encounter with JR. She quickly swipes the tin full of his unsent love letters to Sue Ellen out from under the bed and hurries downstairs before emotion clouds her mind again. Her sweaty hands are shaking and the tin starts feeling like molten lava. She sets it on the hearth and takes a step back. The fire flicks and whips its hot orange flames in all directions.

_It looks hungry. And I'm going to feed it._

She pops the top off the tin and throws a handful of letters into the flames. They crackle and hiss as the pages curl and burn. The more letters she feeds the fire, the harder she cries tears of anger and sorrow mixed into a shameful mess. Suddenly her fingers scrape the bottom of the empty tin. Twenty years of romance gone in five minutes. She tosses the box aside and collapses on the couch, exhausted. The pile of gray and black ash at base of the fireplace will keep her secret very well she thinks before drifting off to sleep.


	43. Chapter 43

Judith Ryland takes a sip of expensive coffee from her Flora Danica china teacup and spits it right back out. She rings a little silver bell constantly until her new kitchen maid appears in the dining room and for several seconds after.

"This coffee is not hot," Judith says to the woman in the traditional black and white uniform who stays at the other end of the long mahogany table. "Why would you serve me this?"

"My apologies, ma'am," the lady says. "Just how hot do you want your coffee? And please don't blame me if you scald your mouth."

Judith raises an eyebrow and a slow, tight smile creeps across her lips. She motions for the woman to come closer.

"Take this away, dear, the pot and the cup. Start over. Bring me everything fresh and very, very hot."

The maid returns shortly after, walking very carefully with the silver coffee pot and china teacup on a silver platter. Steam wafts out of the pot's spout and the woman pours the coffee holding the hot handle with a cloth. She steps back and waits for Judith to take a sip. She blows on the coffee, stirs it, blows some more, stir, blow, stir. Finally she tastes and smiles.

"There, that's better," Judith says. "Come," she waves her hand, "come here. Pour my cream."

The maid stops pouring when Judith holds her hand up. Right after she sets the silver creamer down, Judith snatches her hand and dunks her fingers into the piping hot coffee. She screams and looks at her bright red fingers already starting to blister.

"What's the matter with you!" the maid shouts.

"This is how hot I want my coffee," Judith says.

"Get your own coffee, I quit!" the woman cries. "I'm going to sue you! You're insane."

Judith chuckles. "Look around, there's no one here. Who would believe I'd do such a thing?"

A picture of JR Ewing appears on the morning newscast and Judith turns up the volume on the wall-mounted television in the den. She walks over, leaving the furious maid muttering about lawyers and damages in the dining room.

"Dallas oil tycoon JR Ewing is in critical condition at Dallas General this morning after a car accident last night. His vehicle reportedly burst into flames and careened into an irrigation ditch. Sources at the hospital say Mr. Ewing sustained life-threatening injuries including burns and broken bones. We sure do wish the Ewing family well. We're pulling for you, JR."

Judith gasps, hands over mouth, then claps and squeals like a little girl on Christmas morning.

"Harris!" she whispers. "Oh Harris. My prince, you're all grown up. Mother's ever so proud of you, my little king."

In the kitchen, the made struggles to quickly write down what she just heard with her left hand as the fingers on her right throb and swell before her eyes. She gathers her things and heads to the back door. She hesitates as she passes the refrigerator, then opens it and takes a cold Diet Coke.

"Adios you crazy old bat," she says, letting the door slam shut behind her.

At the bus stop down the street, a woman looks at her bright red, blistering hand.

"Are you alright, honey?" she asks. "Got yourself a bad burn right there."

"I'll be fine, thank you kindly," the maid says. "I actually feel real good. I just escaped from a haunted house, swear. And I'm about bring karma down on a real mean bitch," she says with a big smile, gulping the stolen Coke.

The woman scoots away from her on the bus bench.

* * *

Boone sits in a Dallas Cowboys chair drinking his second beer under the old oak tree in his backyard at 10:30 in the morning. Lucy sleeps soundly in the hammock next to him, exhausted from the night at the hospital.

Boone thinks of Sue Ellen. He watched her from the first tear she shed for JR in the ER, watched her face twist with hurt, her eyes stare down fear for JR with every blow the doctors delivered. It's down right criminal they're not together anymore, she and JR. An epic love like that ought to be lived up close, not from a distance.

He loves Lucy that way, body and soul, well at first mostly body but now…now, soul even more. He has all this right in his hands and he's going to risk it with a huge lie tomorrow. For what?

He watches her breathe slowly in and out, her long blonde hair blowing softly in the breeze, pink lips slightly parted on her angel face. That's _his_ ring on her finger. That's _his_ wife. This right here is Boone's idea of heaven. He'll defend it at all costs he decides at this moment.

Tomorrow is Sunday, the fake SWAT training and Candy's sister's wedding in Odessa. Boone sighs heavily and pours the remaining beer out on the grass. He softly kisses Lucy's forehead.

"Baby, I'm going in to work for an hour or so," he whispers in her ear.

"What? It's Saturday. And you're leaving for Odessa tonight."

"Nope. Cancelled. I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Oh, good," she says and smiles before drifting off again.

Boone kisses her cheek before he goes. Her hair smells like honeysuckle. He inhales the sweet scent deeply, happy with his decision but dreading whatever's to come.

A short while later he sits in his truck in the Dallas PD employee parking lot. He fingers his badge and unlocks his glove box, removing his duty weapon. Staring at the Police Department entrance, he thinks back to his first day walking through those doors as a new police officer 11 years ago. How proud his parents were, how happy he was.

_Best career on Earth. Best years of my life._

Chiseled into the building wall is the Department's motto: "Honor, Courage, Service". Boone's eyes linger on 'Honor' and he drops his head in shame.

"Get on with it you dumb shit. Man up and take what's coming," he says, walking through the double doors.

He presses the cleanest button on the elevator panel, "3". No one goes to the third floor unless they absolutely have to.

"I need to speak to the Internal Affairs sergeant on duty," he says to the secretary.

The girl is well trained; she doesn't ask why.

"Name and badge number?" she says.

"Boone Ellis, 4806," he says, showing her his Department photo ID.

"Wait here."

Moments later she waves him down the hall.

"Sgt. Kinney's office, all the way down, last door on your right," she says with a hint of sympathy smile.

This is the longest hallway Boone's ever seen in his life. He feels like he is walking to the gallows with cement blocks for feet.

"Permission to enter, sir," he says at the sergeant's doorway.

"Come on in, son," Sergeant McKinney says and offers his hand. "Boone Ellis, I've never met you. Congratulations on that," he says trying to lighten the mood. He watches Boone's every movement, notes his flushed face and moist hand.

"Now what are you doin' in Internal Affairs on your day off?" McKinney asks.

"I've dishonored the profession, sir, and I'm ready to pay for it."

McKinney takes a step back and regards Boone Ellis from head to toe. The boy stands straight, hands at his side. He's already holding his badge and gun, the firearm facing backwards so he can see the magazine is not loaded. McKinney is careful not to show the sympathy he already feels for this officer with a spotless record. He hopes his offense is not as ominous as it seems.

"Sit down, Ellis. Tell me what's happened and we'll sort it out."

Boone tells the sergeant everything - Sue Ellen's DUI set-up, the glove she found, having the lab process it without logging it as evidence to spare Sue Ellen the publicity. He tells him how the prints matched dead Officer Jensen and how Candy the lab tech is blackmailing him, making him be her date for the wedding tomorrow. McKinney lets a laugh escape on that one.

"My, my, dating sure has changed since I was a young buck," he says.

"This ain't dating, sir," Boone says. "I'm a married man and Candy knows it. She's asking me to lie to my wife. And I ain't gonna do it."

McKinney nods and sighs.

"Ellis, I commend you for coming clean with all this. You've described a fireable offense, but I expect you already know that."

"Yes sir."

"Hhhm hmm," McKinney says, clearly troubled. "Well, I'm about to place you on administrative leave and collect your weapon, unless you got anything else to say."

"If you'll allow it, sir, I'd like to phone Candy in your presence and tell her I'm not coming to Odessa."

McKinney takes a small recorder out of his desk drawer and turns it on.

"McKinney, number 2976, May the second, two thousand and twelve, 11:25 a.m., Officer Boone Ellis, phone call to lab technician Candy Riley, stop."

The sergeant nods at Boone who dials Candy on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hey Candy, it's Boone."

"Oh hey big fella, how's my new man?"

"Game's over, girl, I ain't gonna be your boyfriend. I'm not comin' to Odessa for that wedding."

Candy is silent and then laughs.

"Boone! You sure can be funny, huh? I almost believed you."

"Believe it. I'm not coming."

"What? No! Oh no you don't. Do not do this to me."

"Do this to _you_? You're the one that's blackmailing me – "

"Shut up! Shut up. All you have to do is come to a stupid wedding with me you asshole. That's it! Why are you making it so hard?"

"Because it's a lie to my wife. And I ain't doing it. You and whatever you plan to do about it aren't worth it."

"There are other things at stake here, Boone, you redneck idiot. A deal was made, don't you understand?"

"_You_ don't understand, Candy."

"BOONE! Just come to this damn wedding and that's it, that's all you have to do and this will all be over with."

"No."

"I swear, if you don't do this, I'll ruin you. I'll tell my boss what you did, how you had me print that glove all secret. The dead guy's glove. You want that? Huh?"

"Sure."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Boone? You wanna lose your damn job over this? 'Cause I can make that happen."

"Bye bye, Candy. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Candy stares at the phone in her hand. She just lost $5,000 and that creep Harris Ryland won't get the photos he wanted. She worries that might be a bigger problem than the money. And why did Boone wish her luck?

* * *

The rising sun's rays bounce off the glass skyscrapers like bright, glistening swords. Bobby and Sue Ellen's tired eyes sting in the morning light as they leave the hospital for the first time in nearly 10 hours. They walk in silence to the parking lot.

"I sure am glad to see the morning," Bobby finally says.

"I don't know about leaving him," Sue Ellen says.

"Sue Ellen, he's made it through the night. Remember the doctor said that was critical. We won't be any use to him if we don't get some sleep ourselves."

"But what if something happens and we're not here? I won't forgive myself," she says, wiping her eyes behind her sunglasses.

"John Ross and Christopher are with him. He's not alone. We have to let them help. Besides, we'll be back in a few hours, before he has the dialysis," he says.

She sighs and he takes her hand.

"I want to talk to the detective who called John Ross today," Bobby says. "I'll go by the police department this afternoon and see what they've got. I can't believe someone would do this to JR. I know he's got enemies to spare, but murder?"

"Maybe it's not JR they're trying to hurt," Sue Ellen says.

"What do you mean? His car was sabotaged."

"I don't know what I mean," she says.

"Sue Ellen, do you know who might have done this?"

"No," she lies. "Why do you ask that?"

"You heard John Ross, the police say it wasn't an accident. I'm just thinking out loud, is all. Why does that upset you?  
"I'm not upset!" she shouts loud enough for the parking attendant to come out of his booth.

"Sue Ellen – "

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired. I'm so tired," she says. "And hot, I can't seem to cool down since we got here."

Bobby feels her forehead but she pulls away, waving off his fussing.

"Just come rest at Southfork and one of us will take you home to get your things later," Bobby says. "To be honest, I don't trust myself to stay awake driving from your house back out to Southfork. Do you mind?"

"No, no it's fine. You're right. I just…..I hope Ann doesn't mind," Sue Ellen says as Bobby opens the car door for her.

Bobby goes around to the driver's side. He gets in but doesn't start the car. Looking straight ahead he says, "Let me ask you something, do you think Ann's been acting..…different lately?"

"Different? That's a nice way to put it," she says.

Bobby looks at her with those kind brown eyes, now troubled, the warm and friendly face tight with worry.

"Look Bobby, Ann's your wife and I don't want to cause any trouble between the two of you. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I asked and yes you should," he says. "I can't believe she just left without even telling me last night and never came back. How could she…why would she do that? It's so unlike her."

He shakes his head and pulls out of the parking lot.

"It's just, I don't know," he says. "I realize she's uncomfortable around JR, who isn't, right? But there's something else. I can't put my finger on it except to say she's nervous, on edge and well…a little jealous. Of you."

Sue Ellen laughs a short sarcastic giggle. "Of what? My love life? My warm and close relationship with my son? My good health?"

She looks out her window.

"You've got plenty of things any woman would envy, Sue Ellen. You're smart, strong, brave and above all, resilient. You won't quit, unless it's on your own terms. You've got that fire inside and everyone can see it," Bobby says. "And I don't have to tell you how beautiful you are. Don't you ever get tired of hearing that?"

"No," she says quietly.

"Well, you're as beautiful now as the day JR brought you home. Even more so."

Bobby doesn't notice her dabbing her eyes.

"Ann's a good woman, a brave woman in her own way," he continues. "What she went through with Harris was pure hell. But sometimes it's like she's, I don't know, made of quick sand, emotionally. She keeps it all inside and it eats her alive. I swear, one of these days I'm worried she's going to do something with that bottled up anger, something she'll regret."

"Well you sure are making the case for me to stay at Southfork," Sue Ellen jokes. "Does JR still keep that rifle under his bed?"

"Don't be silly!" Bobby says. "Ann would never hurt you. She may feel envious of your glamor and confidence but when it comes down to it, I know she thinks of you as a sister, Sue Ellen. Sisters fight, you know that, but Ann does care for you. She's on your side."

"You know, it's strange how the tables turn in life," Sue Ellen says as they drive under Southfork's arch. "Now I understand how Pam felt all those years ago when you brought her home and I was less than welcoming. God, I was horrible to her and worse yet, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed causing her pain. I'm sorry, Bobby, I truly am," Sue Ellen says beginning to cry. "I know it strained your marriage, the unhappiness she felt here in the beginning."

"That was a long time ago, Sue Ellen, a lifetime ago. We were all different people then – "

"You weren't," she says. "You were the same kind, loving, honest man you are today. And you always will be. It's comforting to know that, Bobby. It really is. You're the very best of Jock and Miss Ellie all in one. Ann's lucky, you know. I hope she realizes it."

Bobby smiles, touched. He remembers back when Sue Ellen was an ice queen to him, barely making small talk in passing. Who would guess she'd open up to him like she has over the years. He wants to hug her but she's trying so hard not to cry. He opts to make her laugh.

"Oh I don't know about all that," he says. "I lost my temper plenty of times. Remember all the fist fights? Bars, rodeos, barbecues, poolside? Me and Ray throwing punches left and right? Daddy hollering to stop, JR hiding under a table."

Sue Ellen laughs at JR's well-known brawl evasion tactics. And then she cries.

"I'm scared Bobby. I'm scared for JR….and for me. I'm scared to end up in the hospital hooked up like he is when my disease finally gets the best of me. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be depressing but it's the truth. And you're the one person I can always be honest with. I know I don't say it enough but I'm grateful for your friendship, Bobby, so grateful. And I hope we'll always be friends, no matter what anyone may say, or do."

Bobby does hug her now and before she can pull away he says, "I'm your brother, Sue Ellen, no matter what. We're family. Even when JR's gone, I'll always be here for you. You'll never be alone."

The two collect themselves in the car for a few moments then head into the house. Ann still sleeps on the couch in front of the dwindling fire.

"Sue Ellen, you want me to walk you up to JR's room?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you Bobby, for everything," she says and goes upstairs.

Bobby watches his wife sleep. He brushes the hair out of her face. She doesn't look peaceful. He sighs and looks around the den, his eyes falling on her purse. He hesitates but reaches in and removes her phone. Turning his back on her, he scrolls through her call log and finds the one she got in the ER. Unknown caller, 13 minutes duration.

"Bobby?" she says, groggy. "When did you get home? What time is it? I meant to go back….."

He drops the phone back in her purse.

"Just came in. I was worried about you, Annie. You didn't even tell me you were leaving."

"I'm sorry. You were in with JR. You and Sue Ellen were talking. I didn't want to interrupt. I came home to change and I just wanted to sit here for a minute. I can't believe I slept through until now."

"It's okay, honey. I'm tired too. Let's go up to bed for a few more hours."

"How's JR?"

"No change. But he's made it through the critical hours. John Ross and Christopher are with him."

"Where's Sue Ellen?"

"Upstairs. Resting in JR's room."

Ann looks away.

"She might be more comfortable in her own home, Bobby."

"Who called you last night, in the ER, when you stepped outside?" Bobby says.

"Oh, no one. Wrong number."


	44. Chapter 44

Author's Note: A big flashing THANK YOU for the extensive reviews! I continue to appreciate your feedback so much. Ruby returns in this chapter. I've missed her and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Judith's ex-maid walks into the Dallas Police station looking fiercely determined.

"I'd like to make a report," she tells the desk officer.

"For what?" he says over ringing phones.

"Attempt murder, or something like that."

The officer's head snaps up from his paperwork.

"That so?" he says, looking at her bandaged right hand.

"Yes sir, that's so."

She doesn't look particularly crazy but then you never can tell.

"What happened to your hand, Miss?"

"Burned it, on my iron. Teaches me to rush in the morning, don't it?"

The officer takes out a form.

"Are you an eye witness or is your information second hand?"

"I am not an eye witness but my information is first hand. And this here's about a big case, the JR Ewing car crash, so you better listen up."

The officer puts his pen down, takes her name and checks her ID.

"Hold on," he says, calling the Homicide Division.

"Yeah, this is Schroeder at the desk. I got someone here who says she has information on the Ewing case…Yup….Nope…Will do."

"A detective's comin' to fetch you, Miss. Just sit tight."

The maid looks at all the wanted criminal bulletins on the wall. Some offer big rewards.

"Excuse me, Miss? I'm Detective Grady, you're wanting to speak to me about the Ewing case?"

"That's right."

"Follow me please."

He leads her down the hall and into a small interview room with chairs and a table with two pairs of wrist shackles bolted to it. The detective doesn't say anything and takes a seat. The maid sits down also. Her foot hits the ankle shackle bolt on the floor.

After a moment she says, "Ain't you got some kind of protocol? Don't you have to start out reading me my rights or something? That's what I seen on TV."

"No. That's for people who are being arrested. Is that what you think I'm gonna do? Arrest you?"

"Hell no! I ain't done nothing but swipe a soda from my very disturbed employer before I quit this morning. I'm here to tell you something I overheard."

"And what do you want in return?"

"Nothing. But if you were to offer me a Diet Coke, I would not turn it down."

The detective cracks the slightest smile. He brings her a cold can of soda and she tells him her story minus Judith's crazed coffee incident. She wants to be taken seriously and like Judith said, who would believe that?

"So why did you quit today?" Detective Grady asks at the end of their conversation.

"Do you not see this here uniform? She got me done up plantation style," the maid says and laughs. "Truth be told, my employer was an unpleasant woman. And life's just too damn short."

* * *

Sue Ellen startles awake after only two hours of restless sleep. She sits straight up in JR's bed, confused about her surroundings for a minute. And then it all returns. JR is critically injured. It's not a bad dream. She closes her eyes again, not wanting to face the afternoon's events. When she opens her eyes, they land on JR's bourbon decanter on the table.

She stares the liquor down for a moment then gets off the bed and puts the whole service tray in a cupboard.

"Don't you flirt with me. Not interested," she says to the alcohol and closes the cupboard door with a swift motion, the hinges snapping shut.

Sue Ellen looks at the photos on the bookshelf, many of she and JR together. She sorts them into two groups - her real smile and her fake one hiding hurt and anger. She is surprised to see quite a few more on the real smile side and this moves her. She sits back down and pulls JR's jacket hanging over the chair around her shoulders.

She looks up at the ceiling, tears brimming in her eyes but not escaping.

"I feel like you're already halfway up in the sky," she says, "like you're lingering in the clouds, looking around up there like we did in your balloon. You come back to us, JR, you hear? You come back to me."

There's a soft knock at the door. Sue Ellen removes JR's jacket just as Christopher pokes his head in.

"Oh, Christopher."

He gives her a tight hug.

"Did you get some sleep?" he asks.

"Some. Where's John Ross? Who's with JR?"

"John Ross and Maxine are still there. I came to fetch you. I'll take you home so you can get your things and then drop you at the hospital. We better get going if you want to be there when Uncle JR has the dialysis."

Sue Ellen stands up. She feels a bit dizzy but it's fleeting.

"Has he come to yet?" she says.

"No, not yet. The doctors say it's actually better for him to be out during dialysis, not realizing what's happening."

Sue Ellen nods and looks away.

"He'll come around, I just know it," Christopher says. "For all we know, he's enjoying listening to all of us fussing over him." You'll see Aunt Sue Ellen, the joke will be on us. Uncle JR always wins. Besides, he's got a lot to live for. He's finally back at Southfork. He's making deals again. I caught him on the phone on the patio yesterday. He denied it but I know better."

Sue Ellen shakes her head and laughs softly.

"And he's got you," Christopher says, "the biggest reason of all to stick around."

Sue Ellen goes to Christopher and hugs him to her.

"You're a good man, Christopher, a good, kind man just like your Daddy. My sister was a mean, selfish, conniving woman and there's not a trace of that in you. It gives me hope…..for John Ross. I don't want him going down JR's path. I don't want that kind of life for him. Please promise me you'll look out for him, as best you can?"

"John Ross will be fine," he says. "And I like this new girl he's got. She's - "

"Promise me, Christopher, please."

"Alight. Sure, I promise," he says unsure where this is coming from.

"Thank you," she says, touching his face.

"We better get going," Christopher says.

He turns and sees JR's cell on the dresser.

"Oh look here, Uncle JR's cell is cracked. That must be why he left it home. I'll get you both new phones today," he says putting the broken phone in his pocket.

"I'll be right down," Sue Ellen says. "Just let me freshen up."

Christopher closes the door behind him. He aches for his Aunt. She's strong but she can't hide the sorrow in those eyes of hers. And something else is there, something dark but he can't figure it out. Yet.

Sue Ellen drops her earring on the floor coming out of JR's bathroom. She bends down to get it and sees the butt of the rifle under his bed. That's strange. No cowboy sleeps with the business end of a gun pointing toward the headboard. It's bad luck.

* * *

"I'll be back to get you in about an hour," Christopher says dropping Sue Ellen off in her driveway. "I'm going to get the new phones."

"Thank you honey. I'll see you then."

Sue Ellen walks up to her front door. It feels like years since she's been home and it's not even been 24 hours. She tosses the plastic bag with the ruined dress on the foyer floor. Her dogs stop licking her legs and start batting the bag around like a ball.

"Oh have at it, boys," she says. "It's a lost cause."

She feeds them and walks into her atrium, her glass sanctuary. She sits quietly, thinking about all the evening's events but trying to calm her mind. After a short while she gets up to face what she really wants to know.

Ruby opens her front door before Sue Ellen even knocks.

"Come on in, honey, I been waitin' on you," she says.

Just seeing Ruby overwhelms Sue Ellen with emotion. She stands in the foyer with her hands over her mouth, looking at this woman who knew JR was in danger and tried to save him.

"I don't know - " is all Sue Ellen can say before she bursts into tears.

"That's alright Sue Ellen, it's alright honey," Ruby says and takes her into her arms like she is her child.

The longer Ruby holds her the more Sue Ellen feels the fear subsiding. Soon she is only sniffling as Ruby rocks her gently.

"There we go, honey, you're alright now," Ruby says, pulling tissues out of her sleeve and dabbing Sue Ellen's face.

Sue Ellen takes a deep breath and tries to smile.

"Thank you, Miss Ruby, thank you for what you tried to do for JR."

Ruby shakes her head and leads Sue Ellen to the parlor.

"No disrespect for the infirm, but that is one stubborn son of a bitch. I musta told him 10 times to take my damn phone. You know he thought I was sweet on him?"

Sue Ellen laughs through her tears. "Of course he did."

"How is he? I saw on the news this mornin'. Saw his burned up car, Lord help him," Ruby says.

"You tell me, Miss Ruby. You tell me how he is. You know what's happened to him, you must know if he'll make it or not," Sue Ellen says, her eyes pleading. "Will he make it?"

Ruby sighs. "Honey it don't work like that."

"But - "

"No. It just don't. I get glimpses, I get warnings, calls to action, sometimes I get a poor soul standin' right before me as if they was still here like you and me, but it's all just pieces of a bigger pie. I can't ask for answers, I only receive. That's just not how the Lord's wired me. And I'm sorry."

"That doesn't make any sense," Sue Ellen says.

"I know it. And don't think I haven't given Jesus himself a piece of my mind over it. But I accept it and I remain humble to the Lord aside from a few vices that get the better of me. I'm only human, after all," Ruby says, winking.

"JR did take my phone," Sue Ellen says. "He told me what you said and I made him take mine. He used it to call for help. It…_you_….saved his life, Miss Ruby. And I'm grateful to you for it."

Ruby pats Sue Ellen's cheek.

"I tell you what. Why don't we thank the right woman responsible. She's here, Sue Ellen. She's right here with us and she's real fond of you, I believe she loves you honey, like a daughter, I'd say."

Sue Ellen's red and weary eyes grow very wide.

"What does she look like?" Sue Ellen says.

"Don't know," Ruby says. "I see a presence, I hear a woman's voice, I feel what she wants me to feel. That's all I got for you."

"Miss Ellie?" Sue Ellen says to the parlor air.

"She says 'thank you' to you, Sue Ellen, and she wants you to come home."

* * *

The stallion Ann is riding neighs and gallops irregularly when her cell phone rings loudly. She pulls the reigns and brings him to a stop under a shady tree.

"Hello?"

"Is he dead yet?"

"Harris, you've got to stop calling me. It's too dangerous. I told you I'd phone when there's a change."

"I'm an impatient man."

"You're also an idiot if you think it's safe to call my cell whenever you like. Bobby could answer if I'm not near it. He already asked me who called last night."

Harris chuckles.

"Poor little Bobby. Such a good guy. He has no idea he's married to a liar…..a whore….a murderer."

"Shut up! Shut up you vile prick. I haven't murdered anyone. That's your cross to bear. _You_ did that to JR, no one else."

"At your request."

"Asking for someone to disappear and doing it are two very different things."

"But you're pleased, aren't you? Don't deny me that, at least."

"Fine. Yes. Yes I'm pleased. I'd be happier if you'd finished the job and he wasn't lingering in the hospital like he is."

"Ah, thank you, Annie. That's just what I needed," Harris says.

Ann hears a beep and a click on the line.

"Are you…..RECORDING ME?"

Harris laughs.

"You stupid son of a bitch. You admitted far worse than I just did."

"Yes but we're in this together, aren't we Annie? You and I, we're partners. And this recording won't let you deny it."

Harris makes a kissing noise and hangs up. Ann screams in frustration. It echoes across the pasture. She spurs the horse back to the stables at full speed before Bobby wakes up from napping.


	45. Chapter 45

Judith lets herself into Harris' house, relieved he hasn't changed the locks since their disagreement over Aubrey last week. She looks around the imposing entryway; everything looks the same since she was last here and this pleases her. She doesn't make a sound as she glides to the den, looking for Harris. The scent of sandalwood lingers in the room and she inhales the aroma of his cologne. Turning to go upstairs, she notices the blank wall where she and Harris' portrait used to be above the fireplace. Judith makes a little sound at seeing it gone.

"Hello Mother," Harris says holding a glass of scotch in the doorway.

Judith smiles to herself before turning to face him.

"I knew you'd come," he says, "knew my trick with Ewing's car would fetch you right over. You caught the scent of blood, didn't you Mother? It's got your gills wide open, hasn't it?"

Harris downs his scotch. Judith watches his Adam's apple bob up and down with each gulp. She takes two steps closer.

"Stop right there," he says.

She takes another step. He clinks the ice cubes in his empty glass and chuckles softly. He turns his back to her and fills his glass.

"You want a drink?" he asks.

Her eyes run the length of him from head to toe.

"Yes," she says in a throaty whisper.

He removes one of the tall shot glasses from the ice bucket and pours cold straight Russian vodka to the brim. When he turns to give it to her, she is just inches from him. She takes the drink and pours half of it out on the hardwood floor. It splatters on Harris' Italian leather shoes.

"Filling glasses to the brim is the mark of a Philistine," she says and licks a drop sliding down the side of the glass.

Harris squints at her and focuses on the large black diamond pendant on her neck, pulsing quickly with her heartbeat. He throws his head back and laughs a loud, wild howl, not the reaction she expected. She shrinks away from him.

"You know," she says, sitting on the couch, "when you were inside me, you used to kick so hard I thought you'd break my ribs before long. Just kicked, kicked, kicked, like you didn't want to be in there, didn't want to be part of me. I'm surprised you didn't bite right through the cord with your sharp little gums. Did I ever tell you how sharp your gums were? Like little pink razor blades."

Harris drains his scotch again.

"In fact," she says, "when I suckled you, you made me bleed, Harris, every time. Hurt like hell, how you rubbed me raw, but then I grew to love it, love the pain because I saw the fight you had in you. It reminded me of myself."

"Mother, for god's sake - "

"And you're still making me bleed, with your sharp tongue…and other ways," she says and sips her vodka. "Where's our painting, Harris?"

"Gone. I'm redecorating."

She sips again and rolls the liquor around in her mouth.

"I only came to tell you how proud I am of you, of what you did…..for us."

Harris slams his empty glass down on the bar.

"I did what I did for Aubrey and me, not - "

"Always pushing me away….and still I return with open arms," Judith says. "I just wanted to see if you were alright, if you needed anything. You know how you can be…..worrisome, _regretful_… at times."

Harris looks at his mother sitting there gazing out the window and looking quite peaceful the morning after her son tried to murder a man. He is both amused and disturbed by this.

"You don't get to stir the cauldron this time, Mother. I don't need your help. Go home."

* * *

Boone stands in front of Mark's door for nearly five minutes before finally knocking. The knocks ring in his ears like gunshots.

"Hey brother," Mark says, "you look like shit. How's JR? Did you just come from the hospital?"

"No," Boone says walking inside and flopping on the couch with a big sigh.

"Oh, well…..are you okay?"

"I'm gonna lose my job," Boone says and puts his face in his hands.

Mark sees his big brother cry for the first time in his life.

* * *

Sue Ellen sits in between two big Chanel overnight bags with a train case on her lap, waiting for Christopher to pick her up. She wonders if she shouldn't just drive herself. She'd rather have her car at Southfork if things…..don't work out.

Christopher pulls up her drive and waves at the window before ringing the bell.

"I think I should drive myself over," Sue Ellen says as he hands her the new cell phone.

"Nonsense. You're tired and I don't mind. Plus I'd like the company," Christopher says.

"No, really, I'd feel better if I had my own car on hand. That way I won't have to bother anyone."

Christopher looks hurt.

"Is that how it feels to let your nephew drive you? Like a bother?"

"Oh honey, no, I didn't mean…I'm sorry, I just…I'm just used to taking care of myself now, that's all."

"Well you don't have anything to prove, I know you're fully capable. But sometimes you should just let people help," Christopher says.

His eyes want her to need him and for an instant she feels like she is looking in a mirror.

"You're right," she says. "I'm grateful for you to drive me. Let's go."

Christopher grabs her bags.

"It'll be nice to have you at Southfork," he says. "It's been weird lately."

"Oh? How so?"

"I don't know. Just weird. Weird energy."

Sue Ellen raises her eyebrows at that. She looks at her new phone in its box.

"Is all my phone stuff already in here?" she asks.

"No, but it's in The Cloud."

"The what?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll fix it for you," he says, smiling.

She kisses him on the cheek and gives him the box.

* * *

The moment Sue Ellen walks through the hospital doors everything falls away from her mind but worry. A patient on a gurney is wheeled into the elevator with her and Christopher. The older man's eyes are closed but his face grimaces in pain. Christopher grabs her hand and she has to fight herself to let him hold it; she's unsure why.

She won't be a patient here for a long time, she tells herself. She's not sick in the functional sense of the word. She's not. The doors ding open and pause her mind. She wants to see JR swaggering down the hall towards her. No one but nurses dart back and forth between rooms. Bells ring and lights flash above doors. Sue Ellen doesn't let herself look in the rooms they pass.

And now they're here. Sue Ellen's stomach drops a little as they walk in. The privacy curtain is pulled around JR's bed and a distinct hum comes from the other side. She sees John Ross' boots sticking out underneath the drape.

"John Ross?" she whispers.

The boots get up.

"Mama," he says coming around the curtain.

His eyes are red and his face pale.

"Mama, he just started the dialysis. There's a technician here with him. I want you to prepare yourself. It looks…like nothing I've ever seen," he says and turns away.

Sue Ellen goes to hug him but he steps back.

"I'm gonna check on Maxine. She's in the chapel again. Come on Christopher, give them some privacy."

Sue Ellen is both terrified to go in and relieved no one will see her reaction. She clears her throat and her feet move forward without her permission. What she sees nearly knocks her to her knees. JR's arms are strapped to the rails and his head is immobilized with something like a neck brace and football helmet combined. Two big clear hoses go in to a wide incision under his clavicle. Blood moves inside the hoses to a big machine on wheels with a two large discs that look like white vinyl records spinning. Another hose hooked to the back of the machine empties something into the bathroom sink. All the while the ventilator whooshes.

A technician punches buttons on dialysis machine.

"Oh, hello ma'am," he says.

Sue Ellen can't say anything. She nearly misses the chair she means to sit in and the tech rushes over to grab her elbow.

"I'm fine," she says. "Thank you, I'm fine. Please, tell me what's happening here."

The more the tech explains the more Sue Ellen feels her fear loosening from around her throat.

"So how much longer will he be on your machine?" she says.

"Well it's already been an hour so about two more. He's tolerating it pretty well, considering."

Sue Ellen faintly smiles.

"That's because he's not conscious to argue about it," she says.

She walks over to the other side of his bed and carefully touches his arm, her fingers travel to his wrist and over the leather restraints. She pushes her own unpleasant memories aside.

"Is this really necessary?" she says.

"It is. With this clavicle access port, it's dangerous if he moves around. He could dislodge the hose clamps and bleed to death."

"If his kidneys don't recover, he'll have to have this dialysis permanently?"

"Yes ma'am. Three times a week, three hours a session. A lot of people go through it. It's no party, but it can be managed."

"Thank you," she says and smooths JR's hair.

The tech checks the machine, "I'm going to step out for a little bit and give you a moment with him. I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

The machine makes a series of beeps. Sue Ellen glares at this newest mechanical intruder just like she did the ventilator, determined to stare it down until it no longer scares her. Moments later she leans down to JR's face and rests her hand gently on his chest.

"You hear that, JR? He said this can be managed. At that's what we'll do. We'll manage it, together. So don't you worry about your kidneys right now. This machine's got that covered."

JR doesn't react. Sue Ellen closes her eyes, her hand still on his chest rising and falling in rhythm with the vent noises.

"JR? JR you listen to me. This is not how it's going to be. This isn't…..this can't…you must not let this happen," she says refusing to let the tears come. "You're JR Ewing, you hear me? Please. JR please, our son…he has things he needs to say to you, and hear from you. Please don't go. Miss Ellie talked to me, JR. I know that sounds crazy but she did, she really did. She wants me to come home to Southfork…..and I will. I'll come take care of you….but you've got to open your eyes. Please, you've got to come back from wherever you are right now."

Sue Ellen blinks back tears. Some drop on JR's face. Wiping them off, she sees the faint welt on his cheek from her slap last night. Suddenly she cannot fight it anymore and the damn breaks. She rushes out and down the hall to the ladies' room, bursting in the door with a sob.

Locked in a stall, she tries to slow her breathing but her mind races ahead to JR's grim prognosis then rewinds to her last conversation with him.

_I hardly spoke to him all night. It was so sweet of him to come. I slapped him. But he deserved it. And I said I loved him. He didn't say it back. Did he hear me? Of course he did. Didn't he?_

She unrolls a bunch of toilet paper and lets herself cry into it for a few minutes, stifling her sobs with the thin tissue now stained with mascara. She thinks of John Ross who has stayed here with JR longer than anyone. And Maxine, poor Maxine's first date with him spent in the emergency room all night. So she reminds herself whom they're here for, the man laying in that bed fighting for his life. She's doing him no good being melancholy in this bathroom.

_Enough_.

She throws open the stall door and washes her face. When she dries it in the mirror she tells herself this dread and misery will have to wait. Right now, she wants answers. The doctors haven't been by since last night. And if there is one thing the Ewings are not, it's patient.

Sue Ellen walks down the hall with long, confident strides, eyes trained on the nurses' station. A nurse walking towards her moves out of her way.

"Who's in charge here?" Sue Ellen says to the nurse sitting at the first computer. "Where's the charge nurse?"

"Not sure – "

"You're not sure who's in charge?"

"No, I was about to say I'm not sure where she is right now. Maybe on break."

The nurse goes back to her data entry.

"Find her. Now, please," Sue Ellen says.

"What's the problem?"

"We haven't heard from any of Mr. Ewing's doctors for nearly 10 hours. I want a status report. And I'd like to know what's planned for him, his course of treatment."

"Monitoring," the nurse says, not looking up from the screen.

"Pardon me?"

The nurse sighs and stacks her paperwork.

"We're monitoring him. That's all that's planned right now."

Sue Ellen glares at this woman they've entrusted JR's life to.

"That's hardly a plan," she says. "I want to know what goals he has to reach, to get off the vent or dialysis, for example. I've heard the longer someone's on a vent the harder it is to come off it."

The nurse mumbles something and puts her paperwork in the drawer.

"Ma'am, the orders say to monitor him. That's it. We do what the doctor has ordered and nothing more. I'm sorry if that's not good enough for you," she says taking note of Sue Ellen's large designer handbag and bejeweled bracelets.

"Morning rounds are over," she continues. "I don't know why no one stopped by his room. Afternoon rounds are not for another four to five hours. That's the next chance you'll have to speak to a doctor, unless they're called into surgery. Then you'll have to wait until this evening. I'll be in shortly to check his vitals," the nurse says and walks away.

Sue Ellen stands at the counter unbelieving that's the extent of help offered to her. No one pays her any mind. Two nurses joke with each other, others sit typing at computers outside patients' doors. Sue Ellen reaches for her cell to call Bobby but she doesn't have a phone. She slowly turns and walks back to JR's room.

John Ross sits in a corner chair with his eyes closed. Maxine sleeps on his shoulder.

"John Ross," Sue Ellen says, nudging him. "Honey, wake up. I want both of you to go home and rest. Come on," she says, kissing his forehead.

"No, I don't want to leave him."

"You need to get some good sleep and Maxine's been here all night – "

"I don't mind."

"I know you don't, sweetheart," Sue Ellen says, "and I thank you but you need a break, both of you. Bobby and Ann will be here soon. I'll call you if there's any change. And I think there will be shortly."

"What do you mean?" John Ross says.

"I want to move JR. I don't like this hospital. They're not paying him enough attention. You said you haven't even seen a doctor since they spoke to us last night."

JR's curtain swooshes open with a screech of the metal hanger loops.

"Alright move back y'all," says the nurse Sue Ellen was just talking to.

She pushes past John Ross and Sue Ellen, rolling her cart over Maxine's foot. She slaps the blood pressure cuff on JR's arm and takes a reading, jotting it down on the chart.

"How's he doing?" John Ross asks.

"The same," she says.

She pushes some buttons on the vent and turns to roll her cart away but it hits something.

"Oh. Well, you might as well take all this home," she says. "It's just in the way here. And he's not gonna need these any time soon," she says, tossing the clear bag of JR's clothing and belongings to John Ross.

A shiny thing at the bottom of the bag catches Sue Ellen's eye. There, pressed against the plastic and JR's suit jacket, is her favorite monogrammed pen from her desk, the one she thought she lost. Instantly she remembers refusing JR for lunch at her office last week.

"I want him moved," Sue Ellen says to the nurse. "I want him transferred to Fort Worth Memorial Hospital today."

"What?"

"Moved!" Sue Ellen says. "I don't like the care he's getting here."

"You're not next of kin, if I recall correctly," the nurse says. "You can't make that decision."

"Well I can," John Ross says. "I'm his son and I want you to listen to my Mama. Move him."

"Y'all don't seem to understand what we got here," the nurse says, hands on hips. "He's on a vent, unconscious with unknown brain trauma and kidney failure to boot. The man's knockin' on death's door and you want to risk moving him across town?"

"GET OUT!" Sue Ellen says. "Get out of his room right now!"

"Now just calm down, ma'am – "

"I will NOT. How dare you! How dare you steal our hope like that. If he can hear us the last thing I want in his ears is your heartless voice telling him he's going to die. He deserves better and we can afford better. We want the very best care for him, nothing less."

The nurse chuckles and shakes her head.

"Your kind of people are something else, you know that?" she says.

Sue Ellen's eyes flash with anger and she drops her big purse on the chair. Now _she_ puts her hands on her hips then she pushes the nurse's cart aside so there is nothing between them.

"I could buy this hospital," Sue Ellen says. "Maybe I will, just so I can fire you."

The nurse laughs now.

"She's not joking," John Ross says, "on either account."

"Like I said," Sue Ellen says, "get out and send the charge nurse in. If she's not here in five minutes I'll call for her myself. And you don't want that, you really don't."

Sue Ellen and John Ross glare at the nurse like two dragons about to breathe fire. Maxine stands behind them and nods at the door. The nurse walks backwards out of JR's room without another word.

* * *

When John Ross returns to Southfork after dropping Maxine off it's nearly 1 p.m. He sighs and leans his head against his steering wheel. Exhausted and hungry, he slides out of his car and trudges to the door. His legs feel like cement logs. Before going inside, he turns and takes a deep breath of fresh ranch air.

"Come on Daddy, you come out of that stale hospital room as soon as you can," John Ross says to the crisp air. "You come home to Southfork where you belong."

He stands on the back patio, facing the sliding doors JR locked on him when he was late for Sunday dinner last week. A wave of shame crashes down on him and he drops heavily into one of the chairs. Quickly the shame becomes grief and John Ross holds his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says crying. "I'm sorry."

Just a few moments pass before he stands up and pushes the sadness back down inside him. He wipes his face dry and looks out at the land. His eyes focus on something down the driveway. He runs down the pavement, his legs no longer stiff and heavy. Halfway down the drive, he kneels down and picks up the hat that blew off his head in last night's windstorm. Now muddied and crumpled, the hat his Daddy gave him becomes a symbol of allegiance. John Ross dusts the brown Stetson off and tries to reshape it. Tears want to flow but he denies them and when he puts the hat on, he squares his jaw and vengeance chases the sorrow away.

"Oh, John Ross, I didn't expect to see you here," Carmen says in the kitchen.

"Why not?" John Ross says.

"Oh, well….no, I mean, I just thought you'd be at the hospital."

"I been there for nearly 12 hours."

"With your new girlfriend?" Carmen says, pleased with her own boldness.

John Ross closes his eyes and sighs.

"Elena told you?"

Carmen nods.

"Look, Carmen, I'm sorry I hurt your daughter. I didn't handle myself well on that at all and I'm sorry. But I think we can agree that I'm not the one for her - "

"You've got that right," Carmen says. "She's not Ewing material, as your father reminded her. I told Elena to take it as a compliment."

John Ross accepts the insult.

"It was best to end it now so we can both move on," he says.

Carmen rolls her eyes with her back turned.

"She'll be fine. Don't think for a moment she won't," Carmen says and starts to walk away.

"Just a minute," John Ross says with enough authority to make Carmen turn around.

"I'm hungry," he says. "Fix me a plate, please. Anything you have on hand is fine. I'll take it on the patio. But something quick, please. I need to leave for the Police Department in an hour."

"Yes, _sir_," Carmen says.

As soon as John Ross goes outside, Carmen makes a note about his police visit so she can tell Ann later.


	46. Chapter 46

_**Warning**__: This chapter contains brief scenes of a sexual nature intended for mature readers._

* * *

"Hello?" Ann says into Bobby's cell phone.

"Oh, Ann, it's Sue Ellen…..Can I speak to Bobby, please?"

Ann waits a beat before answering just for effect.

"No, he's showering. Sorry. Shall I tell him something for you?"

Sue Ellen hesitates.

"Sue Ellen?"

"JR's been moved to Forth Worth Memorial," Sue Ellen says.

"Moved? Why? Who did that?"

"Well, John Ross did….at my request."

"Why?"

"He wasn't getting good care in Dallas. We haven't seen a doctor since last night and the nurses were so rude. One stood right there in JR's room and said he was knocking on death's door," Sue Ellen's voice cracks, "I don't want him to hear such talk, Ann - "

"He's unconscious."

"But sometimes they can still hear, maybe he can hear us…..I hope he can," Sue Ellen says softly.

Ann sighs. "I'll tell Bobby. It's going to take us longer to get there now, to Fort Worth."

"I know and I'm sorry but I think it's important for JR to be there, for his recovery," Sue Ellen says, needing encouragement.

"Sue Ellen…..well, never mind. We'll be there soon."

Ann hangs up and holds the phone to her forehead, wanting to send her negative thoughts to Sue Ellen over the wireless network.

"Oh, excuse me Mrs. Ewing," Carmen says. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's fine, Carmen. Please, what is it?"

"John Ross was here earlier - "

"Oh?"

"You and Mr. Ewing were still resting upstairs. And, well…."

"Go on."

"He told me to make him lunch and said he had an appointment at the police department, I think at two o'clock. I thought you should know. Did he tell you?"

"No," Ann says smiling tightly, "no he didn't. Sometimes communication in this family breaks down, doesn't it?"

Carmen nods.

"Thank you for telling me," Ann says. "Bobby should be involved in this. John Ross has a temper and there's no telling what we might miss if he loses it with the police."

Ann pats Carmen's hand.

"Thanks, you did the right thing," Ann says. "Oh, and Carmen? I really am sorry about what JR, and John Ross, did to Elena. She's a wonderful, lovely girl and she didn't deserve that treatment, that _humiliation_. And I plan to make it up to both of you once things settle down around here."

Carmen's face lights up.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Ewing. You're a kind and honorable woman."

* * *

Ann comes up behind Bobby in their bedroom and pulls his towel off him as he gels his hair.

"Honey! You're awfully frisky today," he says turning to kiss her.

She puts both hands on the back of his neck and pulls him to her, his wet chest dampening her silk shirt. She kisses him deeply, inhaling his musky after shave.

"Just today?" she says.

Bobby responds to her playfulness, relieved to see her familiar nature returning. They kiss and embrace for a while longer, then Ann pulls away and lays on the bed, her blouse unbuttoned and moving her long bare legs slowly up and down. Bobby is aroused but turns away.

"Annie I can't, not right now. Why are you doing this to me? I need to get to the hospital."

"Sweetheart I can't control my desire for you, I can't turn it on and off. I love you and want you….now."

Bobby keeps his back to her.

"Annie please, JR needs me."

Ann comes up behind him and presses her nude body against his back. Her hands caress and stroke him in front.

"Does he need you like this?"

Bobby moans and briefly leans into her, then turns around and pushes her back down on the bed.

"I can't. Not now Annie, I'm sorry. Believe me," he says motioning at his hardness but getting dressed.

Ann sits naked on their bed, feeling rejected again by her husband whose top priority is his evil brother and his dysfunctional, hangers on family.

"Sue Ellen had JR moved to Fort Worth Memorial," she says.

"What?"

"That's right. He's already down there. She called me earlier, after the fact."

"Why? Isn't he too critical to travel?"

Ann shrugs her shoulders.

"Well she must have given a reason," Bobby says.

"Oh she did, she gave me a reason. She didn't like the way one of the nurses spoke to her. Thought she was rude. So she had JR moved all the way to Fort Worth."

"What?"

Ann shrugs her shoulders again.

"Don't disrespect Sue Ellen Ewing," she says. "I guess that's the point she's making?"

Bobby shakes his head and pulls his belt through the loops with too much force. Ann's smile wants to push out of her mouth more with each whoosh of the leather strap through the denim loops.

"Don't be angry with her, Bobby, she's so….emotional right now. And I wouldn't be surprised if she exaggerates what happened. She's got to be feeling foolish for risking JR's health with that stunt by now."

"Well that was a stupid thing to do. Now we've got to start all over with different doctors and we're twice as far away from him. Who authorized the transfer anyway? No one called me about it."

"John Ross. In fact, did he tell you he's got an appointment with the detectives at two o'clock?"

"What? No, he didn't. And he knew I wanted to talk to the police today."

Bobby looks out the window and sees John Ross' car is gone. The nightstand clock reads 1:42 p.m.

"Annie, go to the hospital without me please. If I head to the police station now I can make it by two. I want to hear about the investigation firsthand."

"Of course, honey. I'll leave as soon as I dress." Ann says and turns the shower on.

Bobby paces a few times in the bedroom, frustration growing. He tries to calm down so he doesn't blow up at Sue Ellen or John Ross for leaving him out of the developments. He reaches up to his hat shelf in the closet and selects a white summer Stetson with vents in the crown. His head is hot enough right now. When he pulls the hat down a tin box falls out from underneath it and clatters on the wood floor. Ann freezes in the bathroom at the sound, hoping the empty tin won't look at all familiar to him.

* * *

Maxine turns her new key in Sue Ellen's door and the dogs come bounding to her. She disarms the security system then bends and pets each dog separately.

"Your Mama's got a lot goin' on right now, babies. You're gonna have to be big boys and do with less attention for a while."

Bowie licks her face. As she's getting them leashed, the door bell rings. Ruby's face and big white hair fill the peep hole.

"How do, Miss Ruby?" Maxine says and hugs her. Ruby holds her tight.

"I'm afraid there's a storm brewing. And I got to blow them winds right back," Ruby says, shaking her head.

Maxine listens as if they were talking about something as simple as baking cornbread.

"People are meddling, girl, dangerous people with dark minds and cold hearts. And I aim to tip the scales back around to fair play. You're on Ewing's visitor list?"

"Yes ma'am, I am. For John Ross."

Ruby smiles sweetly at mention of the new romance.

"I need you to take me to him, late tonight if you please. Can't be no one else but you and me in that room. Will you do it, honey?"

Maxine is struck by two things, the trust Ruby has in her and the unmistakeable pull she feels to do this. Maxine's felt this nudge before and she knows better than to ignore it.

"I surely will. I'll come collect you at 10 o'clock."

"You ain't afraid at all, are you honey?"

"Of what?"

* * *

Ann walks down the hallway to JR's room at Fort Worth Memorial. This hospital seems more quiet. Nurses speak in low whispers outside another patient's room. Signs forbidding cell phones are everywhere and Ann sets hers on vibrate. She hears the ventilator pumping before she looks inside the room. Sue Ellen sits slumped in a chair at JR's bedside, asleep, holding his hand in both of hers. His face is badly bruised and blistered from the fire.

Ann shrinks away and backs up out of the door. She leans against the wall, breathing fast and shallow.

"Are you okay?" Christopher asks.

"Oh! Christopher, you startled me."

"Sorry," he says. "Here, take my coffee, I don't even want it. I just wanted to get some for Sue Ellen. I'm worried about her. She's running on empty but she won't leave JR. She hasn't said so, but I think she feels guilty. Not that she has any reason to. Breaks my heart."

Ann turns away from him. Suddenly she feels sick and puts her hand over her mouth.

"Ann?" Christopher says, steadying her.

"I'm sorry, I just…."

"I know. It's unreal. I don't think he's going to come out of this," Christopher says, his eyes misty. "Why don't you just be with Sue Ellen for a while. She needs a girlfriend right now."

Christopher gently pushes Ann into the room. She looks at her friend sitting there, pale and exhausted, lifetimes away from the day she introduced Ann to Bobby just seven years ago. At this moment, Ann is sorry for her sins and feels so very undeserving of all the good fortune bestowed upon her as Mrs. Ewing. The voice of condemnation is so loud in her mind she doesn't even hear Christopher waking Sue Ellen.

Sue Ellen takes one look at Ann's face twisted with pain and goes to her. The women embrace and cry, Sue Ellen for JR and Ann for herself.

* * *

Detective Grady reviews his notes on the interview with Zola Washington, Judith Ryland's former maid. She was solid, no indication she came in here under false pretenses. And if she passed his litmus test, she'd make a great witness on the stand too. Grady stares at Harris Ryland's image on his computer screen.

"Are you my guy, Ryland? You got a taste for blood, do you? Revenge? Hhmm?"

"Mr. Ewing's here, Detective," the secretary says, "two of 'em, in fact."

She shows them in.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," Grady says, inviting John Ross and Bobby to sit down. "Let me say again, I'm sorry about Mr. Ewing's condition. The hospital updates us a couple times a day, in case, well, we have to change the crime."

"To murder?" John Ross says.

"That's right. To murder," Grady says. "Like I said on the phone, we have evidence to suggest your Dad's accident was anything but. An arson investigator rolls to any house or vehicle fire and they found what was believed to be accelerant in Mr. Ewing's exhaust pipe and radiator. The lab has since confirmed it. Oil and gasoline."

"Someone put that shit on my Daddy's car?"

"Afraid so. Now the question is who and why. Any ideas?" Grady says, keeping the Harris Ryland lead to himself.

Bobby and John Ross offer up one potential suspect after another, summarizing JR's misdeeds and shrewd business deals but trying not to implicate him in any illegal activity. Neither comes up with anyone they truly think would commit murder this late in the game.

"He hasn't even been involved in the business for years," John Ross says.

"Don't be so sure of that, son," Bobby says.

"We'll follow up on these here names you mentioned," Grady says. "I'll keep you posted. If you think of anyone else we should look into, call me, even if it makes no sense to you at all. Anyone who might have hostile feelings toward Mr. Ewing is a potential suspect."

All three men stand up. Bobby catches Grady's trained eye. Red splotches are appearing on Bobby's neck and his eyes are darting between John Ross and the Detective.

"Bobby, can I speak to you a moment privately please?" Grady says.

John Ross looks at Bobby.

"Alright," Bobby says, taken by surprise.

"What, you don't trust me to hear something?" John Ross says.

"No offense, John Ross. It's just the nature of these things. We have to be blunt. Can't spare no one's feelings for the sake of the investigation. Sorry," Grady says.

John Ross glares at both men but eventually shrugs his shoulders and steps outside.

"You have something you wanna tell me, Bobby?" Grady says. "I'll keep it in strict confidence. You have my word on that."

Bobby thinks of Ann's hostility toward JR, the mysterious phone call she got in the middle of the night at the hospital and lied about, and her overall odd behavior lately.

_This is the face of a pained man, Grady thinks. Come on, let me have it. Tell me what you know._

"No, nothing," Bobby says, fingering his wedding band. "I'll call if I think of anything else."

Grady nods and watches Bobby walk out of his office with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Oh, hold on gentlemen," Grady says. "I meant to give you this," he hands them a document.

"What's this?" John Ross says.

"The 911 call transcript. There's a message from Mr. Ewing to Sue Ellen Ewing, I believe she's your Mama. Isn't that right?"

John Ross nods.

"Well, you pass that along to her, would you son?" Grady says, touching John Ross' shoulder. "The dispatcher promised your Dad. Oh and we'll need to speak to your Mama soon, too. We start with immediate family and work our way outward. We'll be in touch with her in a few days."

John Ross and Bobby walk in silence down the hallway. John Ross clutches the paper in his hand so tightly it crumples. When they reach the parking lot, Bobby stops and sighs.

"Let's see it, John Ross, what did JR say in the call?"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not showing it to you. You heard the detective. It's a message for Mama, not you or me or anyone else."

"Come on John Ross, we have to stand together on this. It's the only way we'll get through it, as a family."

"Oh? Well what did Grady ask you in private then? Huh?"

"He just asked if I had anything else I wanted to tell him."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Made me a little paranoid, to be honest. I feel like he didn't believe me when I told him I didn't."

Bobby sits on a bench and wipes his damp face with a handkerchief.

"How are they ever gonna find out who did this to Daddy?" John Ross says. "There aren't any video cameras on that farm. Any fingerprints have been burned off the car."

John Ross winces at saying that.

"And now we're all being questioned by police. We're all suspects for all we know," he says.

"So what if we are?" Bobby says. "We know we're not and there's no way to prove we've done something we haven't. The police have to start somewhere. And how many times does the guilty person turn out to be a member of the family? Someone you'd never suspect? Happens all the time. We can't really blame them."

John Ross sits down next to Bobby and looks down at the wrinkled paper.

"This is hard, Uncle Bobby. As soon as I think I've got myself handled, something else turns up and knocks me on my ass."

"It's okay, son. I'm here, we're all here to help you. And JR and Sue Ellen. We'll get through this, we all will, you'll see."

John Ross sniffles hard and reads the paper. He fights back tears reading his Dad's struggle, possibly his last words on this Earth, but when he comes to this line he cries openly for his parents and their lost love:

_ "You tell Sue Ellen I love her, you do that for me, you hear? Sue Ellen Ewing, the love of my life."_

"What is it John Ross? Let me see, please," Bobby says.

John Ross hands him the paper.

"You give it to her," he says. "I can't. I just can't."

Bobby drops his head and takes a deep breath after reading.

"You ought to give this to Sue Ellen, John Ross, it should come from you. It's between your Mama and Daddy. I've got no business - "

"She'll feel guilty. I know she will. And maybe she should."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't mention me."

* * *

Harris Ryland sits in his grand leather chair like the king of the castle after ordering his mother to leave his house. He's gotten away with murder, almost, if that stubborn son of a bitch would just leave the Earth already. Judith is finally proud of him and he denied her bragging rights. Just shooed her on home, unneeded. She scampered down the steps like a wounded little bird.

He laughs so loud the sound echoes through his empty house.

_What a lovely day for a well-deserved massage._

Harris books a two-hour shiatsu session at the Gold Dragon Spa downtown and jumps in the shower. As the warm water rains down on him, he thinks of Ann, wondering where she is right now and how nervous she is to meet with him tomorrow. The very thought makes him rise. He turns the water dial all the way to cold.

As he opens the front door to leave, a small white business card floats to the ground. "Dallas Police Department, Detective Sean Grady, Homicide Division," it reads. "Harris Ryland, please call at your earliest convenience," is written in pen on the back.


	47. Chapter 47

_Author's note: I am quite fascinated with spooky Judith Ryland. I explored what might make her behave as she does and it spawned this unpleasant scene below. I'd love to know what you think. Drop me a review and share your reaction? Thanks so much for reading._

* * *

Judith Ryland sits in the dark under the vaulted ceilings of her formal living room in her big empty house. The crackling of the fireplace is the only sound. She stares into the flames expressionless, time traveling back to the beginning.

She was on her knees in front of the huge marble hearth, the tile cold and hard on her skin. Her husband towered over her, holding her down by the hair on the back of her head. Every time she cried with pain he pushed her closer to the flames with all his weight. She felt her kneecap slide and screamed in agony. So close he forced her face to the flames that her eyelashes singed and her vision blurred. Harris kicked inside her stomach harder than she'd ever felt.

"Please," she begged, "the baby. I can't breathe…..you'll…..hurt….him," she choked out.

Leland Stavros laughed as hard as if he'd heard a positively hilarious joke.

"And?" he said, still chortling.

Judith was at the end of the plank again. What she said next would decide if she was pushed off or allowed to see another day. Nothing mattered right then but survival; not truth, not anger, not humiliation, only life. Her baby's life.

"Aaaand?" Leland said, jabbing her in the side with the fire poker.

She didn't make a sound but winced at the sharp steel point between her ribs. She kept her eyes on the flames and didn't bring her arms around her stomach, as much as she wanted to protect it.

"And he would deserve it," she said as calmly as she could.

Her husband loosened his grip on her hair and patted her hard on the head like an unruly dog.

"That's right!" he said. "And why is that?"

Judith swallowed hard. Surely there was a cactus in her throat, scraping the flesh raw with its thorns.

"WHY DOES HE DESERVE IT?" the man she once loved shouted as loud as he could in her small ear.

She whimpered and instantly his big hand was around her neck, squeezing and digging his nails into her skin.

"Because….he's a…...bastard," she said softly, tears streaming down her face.

Her husband nodded Judith's head up and down by her hair.

"Yes, yes!" he said. "That's a little bastard baby you're growing in there, in MY womb."

He pinched her hard on the neck before releasing his hand. She collapsed on the marble floor and crawled away from the fire. He watched her curiously. She tried to stand but couldn't, falling down on all fours. Having used all her defenses to get to this point, she curled up on her side and cried. If only she'd listened to her father. If only.

Leland's shoes clicked on the marble. Click, clack, click, clack, closer and closer until she felt the tip of one nudge the small of her back. She tried to stifle her tears but could not. There was no fight left in her.

"Now, now," he said in a soothing voice that almost sounded like the man she thought he was before. "Why are you crying?"

The question was unexpected; Judith didn't know how to play it. She didn't respond, hoping he would grow bored and just leave her alone. Instead he bent down and faced her eye-to-eye, smiling widely. He repeated the question, blowing the rank smell of alcohol in her face and tapping her nose with each word.

"Why - are - you - crying?"

Maybe the shred of self-respect she clung to started to fray. Maybe the fear of him finally became hate. Or maybe it was just the feeling of his rough, fat finger on her smooth face. Whatever the trigger, something snapped in Judith.

She grabbed his finger with both hands and bent it all the way back, the bone cracking like a snapped chopstick. He wailed in pain, staring at his finger curved around and almost touching the back of his palm.

"This baby is yours, you paranoid son of a bitch!" Judith screamed and ran for their bedroom.

The rest was a blur. Tackled in the hallway, kicks to her stomach, her water breaking. Clawing and fighting for her child's life, grabbing onto Leland's huge foot with both arms and pulling with all her might. And the very loud thud of his head slamming on the marble floor.

To this day, Judith doesn't know how her father disposed of Leland's body. Harris Ryland, Sr., was not someone you asked questions of. But she remained grateful to him for the rest of his life and still takes pleasure that his name lives on through her son.

_Her son_. A smile passes over Judith's lips at the thought of him but quickly fades. Harris is becoming more disrespectful with every passing day.

"Don't you try to hurt me, Harris. It can't be done. I simply won't allow it," she says, bending her own finger backwards until she can't stand the pain.

* * *

The Ewings sit around a table stained with drink rings and littered with straw wrappers in the hospital cafeteria. Sue Ellen pushes them aside with one finger, grimacing like she is touching something absolutely filthy.

Ann massages Bobby's shoulders after he tells her, Sue Ellen and Christopher about the visit with police this afternoon. Sue Ellen shivers and crosses her arms.

"You okay?" Christopher asks her.

"Just cold all of a sudden," she says.

Christopher scoots his chair over and gives her a tight hug. All these years and it still hurts his feelings when he feels his Aunt stiffen at his touch. He hates himself for being so sensitive. As if reading his mind, Sue Ellen pats his hand.

"Would you get me some hot tea, honey?" she asks him.

Christopher couldn't be happier to oblige and jumps up from the table. Ann watches him walk off not realizing the scowl that's swallowed her face but Sue Ellen sees it. And so does Bobby. He reaches over and rubs Sue Ellen's back, a silent show of solidarity. Ann tightens her grip on his arm.

"Where's John Ross?" Ann asks her.

"He went home to get some sleep," Sue Ellen says with the slightest hint of disappointment.

"Home as in _our_ home, Southfork?" Ann says.

"Annie!" Bobby says.

"What? No, I didn't mean anything by it. I just wondered so I could call over and have Carmen see to him. Make sure he has everything he needs. That's all."

Ann rolls her eyes. Bobby purses his lips at her. When he looks back at Sue Ellen, his heart sinks. He knows that expression, those eyes swimming pain, trying to stay afloat. And then she flips the switch that brings the wall up.

"Excuse me," Sue Ellen says. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

She feels like she is walking away from that table just in time. Sorrow is tapping her on the shoulder and she quickens her pace but the loneliness comes down upon her like a large dark hood. JR is near death and may very well leave this world not knowing how she truly feels about him. And she wants to hear him say he loves her one more time so desperately she fears she may die herself if she doesn't hear it.

She doesn't even notice Bobby's caught up with her.

"Sue Ellen," he says grabbing her arm.

She feels the air sucked right out of her lungs.

"Bobby, please…I just need to get some air outside. I'll be right back," she says in a shaky voice.

"Let's go," he says, leading her to the elevator by the hand.

Sue Ellen looks over her shoulder for Ann.

"Don't worry. It's just me," Bobby says, kissing her on the forehead. "And I've got something to show you. From JR."

* * *

Sue Ellen stands alone in the sunlight by the big fountain near the hospital's entrance, her face to the sky, eyes closed and clutching the 911 call transcript to her chest. For a moment she thinks this might be all she needs, those precious words in print could be enough. Maybe she can let JR go now, knowing that he does love her still.

She takes a deep breath of crisp spring air and sits at the fountain's edge, the water spray misting her face. A shiny penny at her feet glints in the sunlight. Suddenly she is seven years old again and bending to pick one just like it up, walking to ballet class with her mother.

"Leave it!" Patricia shouts, startling Sue Ellen. "Never pick money off the ground. It makes you look wanting. And I'm going to see to it that you'll never want for anything in life, darling, especially money."

A crow squawks loudly overhead, snapping Sue Ellen out of the memory. How long has she been out here with her thoughts? There is something about being at a hospital that pauses time. All these people clinging to life; some just born and others fading into memories.

She wonders how much JR is fighting to survive. Are the machines waging the battle or is he? John Ross will have to decide when it's become too much. She agonizes at the thought.

Suddenly it dawns on her that Bobby said the detective gave the call transcript to John Ross. So he's seen his father's last words and noticed his own name missing. How will she convince him JR's love for him is as certain as the day is long? She can't. Simple as that.

She decides to talk to JR from outside, convinced he can hear her just as well. After all, their souls are connected, not their bodies.

_JR, I'm going to tell you something I won't admit to anyone else on Earth. In those months when I couldn't bond with John Ross, those very dark months when I'd just stand at his crib and watch him cry until the nanny picked him up, he'd look at me with these sorrowful eyes, a little lost boy with his mama not two feet away. He felt me not loving him, JR, I know he did. And I think he remembers it to this day. Maybe not as a memory, but as a feeling, a bad, insecure feeling that's always there, over his shoulder._

_I know you think that's ridiculous. But you'll have to trust me on this, JR. Please. Your son needs to hear you say you love him and you're proud of him. I need you to pay for my sins for once. Set this right. Don't send our son into the rest of his life thinking he wasn't on your mind in your last hour. Please come back and love him._

When Sue Ellen opens her eyes, her face is tear stained and she is grateful Bobby left her to read the transcript in private. A passerby does a double take, maybe recognizing her from television coverage.

_You don't look very gubernatorial right now_, she thinks. It's been two days since she's even checked her emails. Christopher still has to set up her phone. Before getting up to go in, she picks up the penny, makes a wish and tosses it in the fountain.

"Sue Ellen!" Christopher yells, coming around the corner. "Come quick! JR's having a seizure."

Naturally the elevator stops on every floor heading to the ICU. Sue Ellen and Christopher burst through the doors and run down the hall. Bobby and Ann stand outside JR's room where voices give commands to unseen staff.

"What happened? Bobby?" Sue Ellen says.

"We were just sitting there with him and his face twisted a little. I thought he was waking up," Bobby says, clearly upset. "Then he just shook. His whole body was shaking. The vent tube nearly dislodged."

Sue Ellen pushes past them and into the room.

"Sue Ellen! You can't be in there right now!" Bobby says.

She pays no mind. Doctors and nurses work on JR who is still seizing. One holds the ventilator tube still, another pushes medication into his IV, others hold his arms clear of the dialysis port in his chest. The doctor watches the EKG machine. Sue Ellen can't get near him so she calls out instead.

"I'm here JR, I'm right here with you," she says with a steady voice.

The staff does not protest. Sue Ellen carefully walks to the end of his bed and touches the only part of JR she can reach, his feet under the blanket. They are cold and she holds them tight, trying to keep him on Earth.

"I'm here," she says again.

The convulsions begin to slow and after a few more violent lurches finally stop. Nurses call out vital signs and do things to the machines as Sue Ellen keeps her eyes on JR's blotched face. His eyes stay closed. After five minutes of calm, the doctor orders JR taken for a CAT scan and turns to the family.

"This is not necessarily bad news," he says, "as long as I don't see bleeding in the brain or evidence of a stroke, this could very well be neurons misfiring, trying to reconnect as the swelling goes down."

"And that's good?" Sue Ellen says.

"Yes, that would be a step in the right direction. A very big step. We don't want him seizing, and we'll give him medication for that symptom as soon as we know what caused it," the doctor says. "Hang in there, Ewings. I know you want answers. And I aim to get them for you."

Sue Ellen wants to hug this doctor, so thankful is she for the optimism.

"So you think he'll wake up?" Ann asks, a fake smile on her face.

"I can't say just yet. I don't want to give false hope. Let's just wait for the CAT scan results and I'll know more."

Sue Ellen goes to hug Bobby but Ann intercepts him. Christopher is right there to accept his Aunt's embrace.

* * *

Mark paces in his apartment, stomach stuffed with the large pepperoni and anchovy pizza he polished off by himself for dinner, the empty box mocking him on the countertop. He hasn't once heard from Sue Ellen, only getting sporadic updates from Lucy.

He stares at Sue Ellen's calendar on his laptop screen. So many big events next week starting with the visit to the Wichita reservation Monday night. Should he cancel? He wishes he knew her state of mind right now. Thinking of her reaction to the DUI press makes him anxious. If he could just talk to her and gauge her emotions. He leaves another message on her home phone.

_What if she pulls out of the race because of this? What if she wants to take care of JR instead?_

Mark sighs heavily. So many jobs riding on her campaign, including his. Such opportunity to improve policy. He sighs again and goes out on the balcony for some fresh night air.

"Fuck you, life!" he shouts to the street down below. "Your timing fucking sucks, as usual."

"Jump!" someone yells back.

* * *

John Ross knocks on Maxine's orange front door. Her bright smile slices right through his dark mood.

"Come on," she says bringing him inside by the hand. "Gimme your hat and coat."

She puts them on the vintage metal coat rack laden with colorful scarves and a purple retro poncho.

"Sit right here," she says pulling out one of the mismatched dinner table chairs.

"What are you doin'?" John Ross says.

Garlic, steak and cumin aromas waft out of the kitchen.

"My people feed each other during hard times, to show support. A lot of soul goes into our cooking and as we prepare it, we pray. We pray for our loved ones to be unburdened. So I'm fixing to feed you some lovin'."

Her sweet candor punches him in the chest and unlocks something he meant to keep secret from everyone. John Ross' eyes well with tears and she takes him in her arms.

"You see there, the prayer's already been heard," she says to him. "You let them burdens go, John Ross, unchain yourself from that misery for a little while and before long it'll be part of your past, not your future. You'll see."

And so they sit for nearly two hours, talking, crying, laughing and eating, this most unlikely couple. And although John Ross is absolutely stuffed with the most delicious Cuban food, he feels light as air. Then Maxine's cuckoo clock strikes 9:30 p.m.

"I'm sorry baby, but I got to say goodnight," she says.

"Why?"

She gives him the look of an independent woman who might just want to stay that way.

"Because. I have to take care of something," she says.

"Can't it wait?"

"No. She can't. I promised to help a friend. Come on now," she says clearing the dishes.

John Ross watches her store the left overs, humming as she works. There is something so good and kind about this beautiful woman he instantly feels undeserving.

"What?" she says, snapping him out of his brooding.

"You're too good for me," he says honestly.

"I'll be the judge of that," she says, kisses him tenderly and sends him out the door.

Fifteen minutes later Maxine is on the road to Ruby's house, right on time, with a plate of beef empanadas on the seat beside her.


End file.
